Stealing Forever
by artbeatsandlife
Summary: *Hiatus* When the lives of a group of friends are turned upside-down, they discover together when all is lost, you find something so much stronger in those around you. Jake/Claire/Embry/Quil AU/AH Rated M 4 language and adult situations.
1. Chapter 1 About Face

**A/N –** Thank you to Hopeful Wager for all her patience and betaing talents, my lovies for encouragement and comments, and Pack 100 for causing the drabble brainstorm that brought about this story in the first place. **Banner here:** http: // www . flickr. com/2585/4134605723_aa843a56d3_o. png

**DISCLAIMER: Twilight characters and related likeness are owned by Stephenie Meyer,Little Brown Publishing. No profits have been received in the production of this piece.**

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**Chapter 1 – About Face**

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**:::JACOB:::**

He was irritated with himself for leaving his license at his Mount Airy home, almost twenty minutes away from the club. Backtracking was _not_ on the schedule, and after the third stoplight in two blocks, he grew increasingly more eager to begin the night of tomfoolery, knowing his friends were becoming ever more intoxicated without Quil and him.

Outings like this were becoming less and less frequent as they settled into their late twenties. Two of them now had wives and children, the rest, time-consuming careers, mortgages and significant others that left little opportunity for extracurriculars.

All he'd have to do is grab his identification - forgotten on his dresser instead of tucked in his wallet - then he and Quil could be on their way back to meet the group.

"You know, Jake," Quil began as he turned the steering wheel into a space just outside Jacob's house, glancing at the large brick townhome, "without getting too mushy, I wanted to tell you, away from the rest of those guys, how happy I am that you and Embry are gonna be my best men."

Jacob turned to his friend searching his face for signs of humor, but finding nothing but sincerity, a smile playing on his lips. "Who else would it be? I mean, really?" Jacob replied with all seriousness; then his smile broke into a full grin.

"No really, dude," he said genuinely. "I'm happy to do it; I know we both are. You're one of my favorite people in the word," he continued, patting Quil on the shoulder.

"I hope that Claire and I are just as happy as you and Rose."

Jacob's smile beamed. "One can only hope."

Hopping out of the Land Rover and slamming its door loudly, Jacob ran to the front door in lieu of his usual garage entrance. He wasn't driving and didn't have his door-opener anyway; Quil had the "pleasure" of being designated driver tonight.

He followed casually behind Jacob and headed for the first floor washroom to relieve himself. _Typical Jake,_ Quil thought finishing and washing his hands, _always forgetting something. _He headed for the kitchen to find something to quench his thirst before Jacob made his way back downstairs.

The house was dark, and initially, Jacob thought Rosalie had left for the evening after his departure. He remembered that she had mentioned possibly going out with some girlfriends or something of the like, but he heard the softest of sounds coming from the upstairs bedroom they shared.

Figuring she was preparing herself for a night of club-hopping with friends just as he had, Jacob took the stairs two at a time, excited to see his love in whatever satin or tightness she had poured her luscious body into. When he ran down the list of everything he wanted in a woman and wife, Rosalie embodied every trait he desired, and so much more. She was beautiful, intelligent, and great in bed, qualities that ranked pretty high on his list of must-haves. She dealt with him and his flaws; she stood by him while his father was sick in the hospital and supported him while he worked on his doctorate.

All of that was forgotten now though.

Neither of them saw him. Not at first.

_He_ wasn't even entirely certain of what he was witnessing initially - his eyes catching fleeting glimpses of the display, not really piecing together its parts until moments later.

An arm.

A thigh.

Beads of sweat.

A rounded bottom jutting towards the ceiling.

A mattress yielding under their combined weight.

Then, much like a sputtering car engine, his faltering mind quickly assembled what was before him in a stream-of-consciousness, garbled mess of thought and emotion.

_Wha….?...What the fuck?...Can't deal with this shit right now…How could she do this?…...Done nothing but be the best boyfriend…OH MY GOD…I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna kill him....gotta get the fuck outta here, gotta get out of here..._

He stood there, petrified in his shock.

He supposed briefly that, through the soft music and pants and moans, and…_movement_, they wouldn't have been paying much attention to the opening of the door just a few feet away.

So, for an excruciatingly long nine seconds, Jacob got the displeasure of seeing Rosalie bent, crouching on hands and knees in their king bed, body flushed pink, hair in disarray that only fingers and sweat and being rubbed against a comforter can cause.

Then, her perfect mouth moaned _his_ name the way Jacob had heard her say his countless times. His heart lurched, then broke.

He was _not_ seeing this.

For a brief moment, he attempted to give her the benefit of the doubt, running through any possible explanation that would suffice as to why she would do something like this, and be stupid enough to do it just a couple hours since he'd left - and in their home, no less. Even outside of the anger, hurt and confusion burned fiercest within him.

Her body rocked crazily against his thrusts, her once perfect face grimacing in pleasure. Jacob fought the bile threatening to rise in his mouth when he smelled them, the distinct stench of sex and sweat and heat lingering stiflingly in the room. He gritted his teeth-- so hard he felt and heard the popping-- as he swallowed hard and frowned his unease.

He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, attempting to get a hold of the wild rage rising within him. He couldn't let it escape, because he wasn't at all prepared at this moment to deal with the consequences of what his unbridled anger and pain would bring.

_Rosalie's study partner from her Master's program. _

_That piece of shit was fucking his girlfriend. In his bed. _

They had had that motherfucker over for dinner. He had played touch football with him, and here he was, stroking her without a care in the world, head thrown back, eyes shut tightly in satisfied bliss.

Rosalie's fingers gripped the sheets firmly, her back arching into an almost painful curve. Whimpering and whining loudly on the verge of her climax, she swung her head wildly in his direction, still not realizing she and her partner in coitus weren't the only two in the room.

She loved Jacob, she did, and he would someday be her husband, but Edward made her feel seductive and carnal and alive. How long could anyone be expected to shirk the constant advances from someone so beautiful, so confident, so inherently sexual? She promised herself the last time would be _their_ last time, but then, he'd come over tonight and grabbed her by her hips from behind, his already stiffening cock pressing against the thin fabric of her stretch pants and her resolution was lost against a wall of the hallway.

"_Please_," he'd begged her, his cool fingertips teasing at the bottom of her tank, then sliding into the waistband of her pants.

"No…," she said halfheartedly as he whispered sensual vulgarities that heated her in ways she never thought she could feel for someone other than Jacob. They were naked within seconds.

_…so close.._. She felt the delicious tightening within her, as she teetered on the edge of her climax. Through lust-hooded lids and furrowed brows, just as the climax wracked her body, she slowly opened her eyes and caught sight of the surprise, pain, then fury crossing Jacob's handsome face.

He waited there for just that. The shame, the revelation, the shock.

Jacob nodded his head, silently agreeing with her that she'd been caught. He could never bring himself to love her in this way again, to touch her. This would forever be etched in his mind, and that's something he could never forget. Ever.

Clamping tightly onto the doorframe, he squinted his eyes and clenched his jaw, two telltale signs that he was furious, Rose noted for a half-second. She had never seen him look this angry, this hurt.

"Jake!" At least she had the dignity to look surprised. She ripped her body from Edward's, with a slick slurp, searching frantically for something, anything, to cover her naked body.

Jacob didn't wait for anything more; he had to get the fuck out of that room to clear his head. He wasn't gonna just stand there and watch his girl get fucked by another man.

A million questions crossed his mind again as he made it to the kitchen, pacing wildly and running his fingers through his hair.

What would he tell his mother? Her mother? Why did she do this? Was he not satisfying her? No, that couldn't be it. They had sex daily, and she always seemed pleased. Did she love this dude? Jacob had no idea; she was nothing, if not stealthy with her infidelity. How long had this been going on?

"Wha…?" Edward questioned. Confused at Rosalie's now hysterical search around the room, and the abrupt cease of their lovemaking. She didn't bother answering him, finally locating her silk robe and dragging her index finger under her lower eyelids to remove the smudged mascara that circled them. She caught sight of her reflection, all flushed skin, untamed hair and dewy glow.

She looked like sex.

Her tears were already streaming down her face as she saw Jacob reach their spacious kitchen area. He was gesturing wildly and gripping his hair at the scalp, walking the length of the kitchen nonsensically.

"Jake, dude, what the fuck is wrong?" Quil asked, attempting to grasp why his friend was behaving so crazily, walking and muttering to himself.

It just hurt so bad. The worst kind of pain he could think of, because it wasn't going away, seemingly intensifying as his eyes met hers. And, as he unwillingly looped the scene of the woman he swore he would marry sharing something so personal with a man she had only known for a few months, his heart ached even more, if that were possible.

He just wanted it to go away. He wanted it to all go away.

Rosalie made it to the kitchen, pausing at the doorway, before nearing Jacob and reaching out to touch his forearm. He yanked it away violently, and, for a split-second, she thought he would hit her.

"Don't _fucking_ touch me," he said in a threateningly low hiss, his eyes raking disgustedly over her just-fucked appearance as he wrinkled his nose. "I can smell him on you… You look like a whore."

Eyes widening in disbelief, then understanding at that revelation, Quil backed against a far counter, attempting to allow them some personal space. He did know his friend, however, so he kept an eye out for any loss of control. He stepped further away, pulling his cell from his pocket and placing a quick call to Embry, letting him know the details and that they may not make it back to the club.

"Jake, _please_, let me explain," Rosalie pleaded.

"Let you explain?" Jacob said calmly. "Let you explain! You were fucking someone else in my bed. What the fuck else is there to explain!" Both she and Quil flinched at his tone. She was so completely and entirely mortified that this had to be happening in front of an audience.

She just wanted to go back to two months ago and redo this entire sordid, stupid decision. Why didn't she say no? Why did she allow herself to get sucked into this situation with Edward? Why didn't she get out when she'd first realized how attracted to him she was? Was that worth demolishing two years with the love of her life?

And, at the most inopportune time possible, Edward descended the stairs, buttoning his green dress shirt, and smoothing his bronze hair. If that wasn't enough, he had the gall to attempt to get Rosalie's attention as he walked toward the front door of the home.

"Motherfucker, get the fuck out of my house!" Jacob yelled, launching towards the much smaller, thinner man. Before Quil could get his hands around his friend-- the only person in the house that could do so at the moment-- Jacob had already landed several stiff blows to Edward's face.

Surprisingly, he did get one fair punch into the side of Jacob's head, though he was no match as Jacob pinned him to the ground and began pounding his fists violently into his face and upper body.

At one point, Jacob wrapped his hands around his neck, squeezing with every ounce of strength in him. Maybe if he killed him, the pain would go away. Maybe if he removed him from this world, Jacob could get his own shattered world back.

"Jake!" Quil shouted futilely. "Jake, stop, man, stop! You're gonna kill him!" He attempted to grab him by one massive bicep but was met with enough force to push him to the ground momentarily.

"Jake! Please! Please!" Rosalie screeched, as she saw the blood covering the hardwood hallway floor, Jacob's fists raw and bloody. The once quiet home was soon filled with grunts and yelling and the sounds of scuffling and struggle.

"Stop? Stop! You taking up for this motherfucker!?" Jacob yelled breathlessly. Quil no longer attempted to reason with words; he wasn't going to let his best friend kill this guy and get carted off to jail over a woman. He made his way to the front of the brawl and launched his entire body weight against Jacob's massive chest, forcing him to his back with a loud thud.

"Rose! You better get that motherfucker out of here before I let him go!" Quil shouted, placing a similar hold on Jacob that he had restrained Edward with just moments ago, keeping him prone to the ground. Jacob riled and pushed until there was no more fight in him and tearless sobs quietly racked his body.

"I can't believe you! I can't fucking believe you!" Jacob yelled in her direction. His heart was ripping in his chest, he was sure he would start bleeding emotion and pain at any moment.

Rosalie, now cowering in a corner, eyes wide and disbelieving, helped Edward's broken body to his feet and out of their home. She apologized profusely to the man, running to get him a towel and walking him outside, though, much like Jacob, he didn't have much to say to her.

Quil could think of so many things to say to Jacob at the moment, but opted for silence, waiting, holding him tightly across his broad chest until his breathing slowed to a reasonable rate. Finally, his eyes lightened from the black hue they had distorted to, and Quil's own heart slowed. Rosalie re-entered the house, just as Jacob made it back onto his feet.

He glared at her, longer than was normal, just long enough to make her uncomfortable and be forced to look away. Jacob straightening his rumpled t-shirt and walked towards the stairs, jogging up to their bedroom. He had to get the fuck out of this house. For how long, he didn't know, he just knew he couldn't be held responsible for anything that happened from this point on.

Jacob quickly threw several items into a gym bag donning his college logo, stopping for a moment to search a hanging suit jacket pocket to remove a small navy velvet box. There, nestled in white satin was a simple but large solitaire diamond ring. He felt like a fool for nervously dragging Quil, Embry and his father to the jeweler two weeks before. What now? What happened to their future? Their forever?

He snapped the lid close and threw the box into the bag, zipping it roughly and bounding down the stairs. Rosalie quickly moved out of his path, glancing sheepishly at Quil for a brief moment. How could she look him or any of his friends in the eye again? She'd always be known as the cheat, the one that wasn't good enough for their friend, and who didn't deserve him.

"Jake…" she pleaded. She couldn't just let him walk out the door without a word. Even through her shame and remorse, she wanted him to see clearly. This couldn't be the end of them. She couldn't just stand by and let her perfect, thoughtful, amazing Jacob leave her there without a backward glance.

"Don't," he warned again through clenched teeth, pulling the door ajar. "Get me the fuck out of here," Jacob said in Quil's direction, not bothering to stop to see if he had followed him through the doorway outside to the car.

Quil waited for a brief moment, glancing in her direction and shrugging, then pushed past Rosalie with a pained look. He was at a loss in this awkward situation; Jacob was his best friend, and he was there to catch her naked, and with another man. Not much left to say.

Barefoot, she ran out the front door behind Jacob into the warm Pennsylvania summer night air, attempting one last time to stop him and get him to at least look at her. She just needed to look into those soulful eyes and catch a glimpse of hope, the smallest glimmer that the situation could be fixed - that would get her through all this.

He didn't bother yanking his arm out of her reach this time though, only standing still as a marble statue, tightening every muscle in his body, trying his hardest not to allow the tears just beginning to form to fall in front of her. She couldn't have that. She couldn't know she had hurt him so deeply. Anger was one thing; pain was an entirely different situation.

"Rosalie," Jacob said barely above a whisper, but more than loud enough for her to hear. "I'm a gentleman, but, I'm still a man. Don't. Touch. Me." His tone made no room for discussion or confusion. It was a warning. "I want you out of this house by the time I get back."

"Jake, this is my home too..." she began, refusing to accept that it was all over that quickly. "You can't just tell me to leave."

He turned to face her, tightening his jaw once more, and she saw the lack of emotion in his eyes as he reached for the handle of the car door.

"You already made this decision for me."

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**I know. This is rough. Stick with me, though. This story is much bigger than just this. Read on...**


	2. Chapter 2 Sweetest Drug

**Chapter 2 - Sweetest Drug**

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**:::CLAIRE:::**

It had finally come.

After months of planning and place cards and registries and invites. Listening to the incessant bickering of her mother and his sisters. Selecting swatches in shades of blue and silver for cloth napkins. Food tasting and shower gifts and securing a venue.

At last, she had finally come to the veritable apex of her year-long climb towards the altar.

The dress.

Well, not quite _the_ dress. Despite her best efforts over the last six months, that little bugger hadn't quite made itself known yet, sadly-- more like _a _dress, or _dresses_.

It was a necessary evil - and, evil it was. Over time, she'd gone through a litany of emotions, from the highs of intense happiness to the trenches of sadness, anxiety, frustration, hopelessness – all brought on by a simple lack of fabric, thread, and buttons. Her emotions all lead her back to this place in the end. Even with weekend trips to New York, Los Angeles and Paris, three wedding gown 'specialists,' not to mention wreaking havoc on Philadelphia metro, that integral part of their nuptials still remained incomplete.

Dress shopping.

She was dress shopping for her wedding dress once again, because she was someone's fiancé.

Fiancé. _Fiancé_.

_You know, my fiancé and I would be happy to come. _

_Oh, yeah, my fiancé went to school there. What a coincidence._

_Yes, my fiancé and I will be travelling there this summer with our parents._

She rattled off various sentences in a variety of situations where she could not only say the word without thought, but mention the man she loved consequentially.

He would laugh at her when she did this in his presence, flashing her a bright smile, then draping his arm around her shoulders and placing a kiss on the crown of her head. She'd blush and run her lips along his jaw sweetly, shrug, then continue with her shameless, deliberate placement of the word in her conversation. She didn't care. She loved this man, had waited her whole life to feel even remotely close to this about another human being. Her heart fluttered; he loved her, and she wanted the world to be aware. What was so wrong with that?

But, then came need for a dress. She needed to go, and inevitably live, in her happy place – far, far away from this. This whole inadvertent reaction-- a stress relieving exercise of sorts-- had become her escape over the past months of dress searching as she sat listening to the yapping hum of both his and her mothers and sisters in the background of her consciousness. Really, who in the world would remember the color of the table runners anyway?

And so, the discussion continued, and she couldn't muster the energy to comment, or even pay attention for that matter. She briefly contemplated running from the shop, but frowned remembering that she'd ridden with her sister, and auto theft wouldn't do well on her spotless record.

She just longed for silence, so she could daydream about her _fiancé_ in peace: flawless, perfectly bronzed skin with just a hint of pink; broad shoulders leading proportionately to his small waist.... He was a swimmer, so the long, lean muscles of his body were painfully and powerfully beautiful. The way his face contorted in breath-taking agony when he'd reached his climax inside her. The tribal tattoo etched across his back that she loved to run her tongue across at just the right moment…

_Quil._

She felt her face immediately flush at the thought of him, and hoped the others hadn't noticed the redness creeping its way across her high cheekbones. A bashful grin spread across her face, and she yearned to reach her phone tucked in her purse in the next room to call him or at least send a quick text.

She knew he'd be getting measured for his tuxedo that afternoon, along with the rest of the groomsmen, at Ralph Lauren. Claire's mother had insisted they use the American designer who was just about the only one that could fit each of their massive bodies properly. Why he had to have such huge, tall monstrosities for friends was beyond her, she thought fondly.

Her thoughts flickered back to him and his smile, every piece of her ached with complete and all-consuming love. Call her a cynic, but she had romanced the idea of matrimony to a point that she had thought the marriage secondary to the person she was marrying. She was in love with love. Quil changed that for her. All smiles and warmth and tenderness. Always thoughtful, soft spoken and of few words.

She wistfully remembered the Christmas party her parents had had that he'd attended with his father, a colleague of her mother's. She knew the scheming duo was planning to set them up, and she was fairly skeptical of a guy who needed his parents to introduce him to women.

That thought was quickly chased from her mind, though, once she'd laid eyes on him. He was gorgeous; he was perfect, if perfection were possible in this life. Extremely tall, with the most endearing dimples and ice-white smile. They were introduced and every conversation, every sound was silenced as they met eyes. His intensity saw through right to her soul, a fact that still brought a shiver to Claire's spine.

He had spilled his egg nog on her velvet jacket within the first ten minutes, too nervous to keep his composure. She'd assured him it was alright, and ascended the stairs to find something of her sister's to wear. Thank God they all wore the same size.

"Even more beautiful than before," he said, eyes twinkling after she re-joined the party. He offered her his hand and she accepted it, following him into a chaste dance to "I'll Be Home for Christmas."

They talked all night about their families and boarding school and careers and the future. Then, later when neither of them wanted to leave, Quil invited her to breakfast, which lead to an invitation to his best friend Embry's gallery opening the following day.

He picked her up, even opened her car door and every door thereafter.

_An old school gentleman_, she'd called him, which triggered a bashful duck of his head and slow smile. She smiled remembering how nervous she was that night to meet his friends who were all in attendance. After getting the third degree, the worst of it from his sister, Leah, it was his best friend, Jacob, who made her feel most at home, telling her not to worry and to relax.

"Her bark's worst than her bite," Jacob said handing her a much-needed glass of champagne.

"Funny, I can't imagine her bite being any worst than that, geez," Claire said, downing the contents of the flute in one gulp, then offering it back to Jacob to refill. He chuckled, then grabbed the bottle by its delicate neck atop the drink station, and nodded his head towards a far corner of the party, urging her to follow him.

She actually got her first good look at him below the spotlights beaming on an abstract portrait painted in vibrant blues and greens, hanging on a stark white wall. Though he was a bit taller and larger, he actually looked surprisingly similar to Quil and Embry, and she wondered briefly if they had some distant familial ties.

"Quil's a good guy," he began, finishing his drink, then refilling both glasses once more. "He's one of the best guys I know, and I can tell he likes you a lot already."

She blushed uncontrollably and gushed about how much she cared for him, even in the short time they'd known each other. Jacob was kind and sweet to her, as she'd come to know was his nature. Embry was always good for a wisecrack or unwarranted, hilarious comment. They all protected the always excited and youngest Seth. Sam was his brooding, thoughtful brother. She'd quickly came to love all of them over the years and they'd become a part of her own family.

Of course, she and Quil soon became inseparable. Their parents had warned both of them that they were falling too hard, too fast, though it didn't really matter to either of them. And now, even two years since, the love was still there, as sure as ever.

She needed him like she needed air; loving him had come so easy, too easy almost. It wasn't a frivolous thing that she had to think about or even give effort to. Together, they'd always felt like they were hurling towards something so much bigger than either of them even realized. It was certain and strong and steady. It was there for anyone who took even a fleeting glance at either of them to see, neon and bright, and egregious.

They were soulmates.

"Miss Young?" Claire turned her head attentively in the direction of the tinkling bell-voiced shop manager calling through the door of the large changing room. "I've pulled these dresses for you. I think any one of them will look amazing on that figure of yours," she said, eyeing her with a playfully infectious smile.

Unable to fight it, a broad grin fought its way onto her beautiful face as she let out a deep sigh and attempted to get her second wind.

"Yes, thank you, Alice." She draped a pale blue satin robe around herself and allowed the small woman to enter with the pile of dresses. Her mother followed closely behind, clad in silk and linen and pearls.

Of course controlling Daphne Young would take this opportunity to insert herself into Claire's life. What better a stage to blow her own trumpet than to bully her wedding planner into making choices she thought would be best? Her parents were paying for all this, so unless it was egregious, she let her mother have her way. Claire, however, did think it funny that her mother never had any comment unless she was telling her where to go, how to go, what to do, or who to do it with.

"Claire, sweetheart," Daphne began, sweeping her hand toward the tulle, silk and lace now hanging on various opulent brass hooks, " we saw all these, and the one you said you like is here in the corner."

"Thanks, Mother," Claire thanked through gritted teeth. She hated all of them except for one. She sighed silently, pointing to various rejected dresses about the room, as Alice and her assistant quickly removed them all.

Then, Claire caught sight of the little beauty she'd seen as she walked in the door of the couture bridal shop that morning and smiled. "Hello there, lover," she whispered to the dress tenderly, running her fingers across the beading. It reminded her so much of her grandmother's wedding dress that she'd seen in so many time-weathered black and whites around her childhood home. She'd always thought she looked so amazingly feminine and angelic, so much how a bride should look as she married her grandfather.

Glancing frustratingly around the warmly lit room, Claire felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her. This shouldn't be this difficult. She was being silly – they all were. It was just a dress. The important part was that she was marrying the love of her life; the dress didn't matter. She sighed once more, and had all but lost herself amongst the ivory and French white mass, when she realized she needed a Quil fix.

"Kat," Claire called to one of her twin sisters, "bring me my purse. It's the big brown one under the chair in there with you."

That reminded her; she needed a bag of some sort, a clutch perhaps, to go with her non-existent wedding gown.

Her teenage sibling soon appeared with the bag and sat on the cushioned dressing room bench sipping a bottled soda, "Calling Quil, huh?" she said chewing her gum, complete with intermittent pops and crackles. She looked the consummate antithesis of everything in the room, which may have been partially why, though she'd never admit it, Claire favored her among her family members.

Katharine was all Converse and black nail polish and neon green streaks on jet black hair. The Young family was one of summers in the Hamptons and winters in Aspen, and, though Claire didn't exactly rage against the machine, she saw more of herself in her little sister than in her parents.

"God yes," Claire breathed, "I'm about to lose my fucking mind in here." She searched around the room for which dress looked the least hideous, and easiest, to try on next. Crossing the space between them, Claire slid the bottle from her sister's fingers, and took a long sip while rummaging deeply in her large purse for the cell.

"Babe, kill me now," she began without a salutation. "No, really."

Quil's masculine chuckle was jovial music to her ears. "It'll be over soon, and listen, we can head over to that Italian restaurant that just opened around the corner. I'll come pick you up, how's that?"

"Okay," she huffed. "How's it going for you?" she asked, pacing the room for no real reason other than her tendency to turn into a fourteen year old girl whenever she talked to him on the phone, complete with hair-twirling and lip-biting.

"Pretty good. I'm done, now Jake and Embry are going," he replied, running his fingers over the dozens of silver ties the store had pulled for the men to make decisions on. They all pretty much looked the same to him.

"Ah, to be a guy. You just stand there with your arms out and legs spread for fifteen minutes, and you're done."

Quil chuckled again. "Ah, ah, ah," he chastised playfully, his smile making itself known through the phone, "jealousy doesn't help anyone, Clay."

"Shut up," she teased, "Okay, I gotta go. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Alright, beautiful. I love you."

Claire turned to the remaining dresses with new found purpose and hiked the closest one over her strapless bra and satin bikini-briefed body. Thank God she hadn't had that third donut this morning over coffee, or she'd never be able to put this thing on. Alice re-emerged to help her zip and button herself where appropriate, stepping back and studying the dress closely.

She turned to look in the mirror, smoothing her hair and fingering the fabric of the asymmetrical gown, then turned to Kat.

"It's…okay. It's nice," her sister said, cocking her head to the side and bouncing her crossed legs. Claire stared at her for half a beat.

"You hate it."

"Yeah..."

Alice turned to her. "Not sure if that one's it…"

She didn't even bother going into the main sitting area with this one; she opted for tearing it off quickly and sliding into the next one, which was also a bust, and so was the next one; all wonderful, just not _it_.

She turned to the last of the dresses and slipped it on, thinking how completely heartbroken she would be if she didn't like the way this one fit. She was sure if she had to choose between any of these again, she'd lose control of all cognitive function she was managing to hold on to at the moment.

"Oh, Clay," Katharine uncharacteristically gushed. "You look… _wow_." She stood to take a closer look at the beading detail, and to have a glimpse at her sister's reflection in the mirror.

"Do you like it?" Claire said, peering back at her reflection, then into the eyes of her sister. She needed little validation though; it _was_ gorgeous, but Katharine was always good for an honest, upfront critique.

"O.M.G., Clay, if this isn't it, _it_ doesn't exist. Seriously."

Claire took one last long gaze at her reflection, turning to see the dress from all angles in the mirror once more. After gathering the train over her forearm, she rushed out of the room, peeking her head around the corner tentatively.

"Well, Claire? Let us see!" Quil's sister, Michelle, prompted, clapping her hands together excitedly. Leah even nodded, seemingly interested in how this particular dress would look.

"Okay," she said with all the fanfare of a ringmaster, "here it is."

She entered the room slowly, careful to give everyone a view, as various gasps and whispered awes followed her to the center. She glanced down, sliding her stocking feet around the carpet, and rising onto the round, raised pedestal. All eyes were on Claire as Alice rushed to retrieve a suitable veil, standing on the edge of the room, admiring her in the perfect dress.

"Oh, Claire," her mother clasped her manicured hands to her mouth, "That's _it,_ sweetheart." Claire found a small, but never the less existent, satisfaction in Daphne's words. Her mother was rarely available for anything, especially words of the positive variety.

"Yes, Clay. You look absolutely Victorian. You should be on the cover of a novel," her sister, Kristina, agreed, smiling with all the enthusiasm of her sixteen years.

"It's absolutely perfect, dear," Quil's mother, Denise, whispered with a smile, gesturing for her to make a full circle so each angle could be seen. The women commented and murmured on the length and color and cut. She shuddered to think of the price of the… Monique Lhuillier gown covering her slender, but shapely figure.

She had to crane her neck and twist her body to see the tag of the dress, because, despite the influence of her much chicer kid sister, she didn't have much of a penchant for fashion or its designers. She favored argyle, cable knit sweaters, and Top-Siders to pumps and skirts.

Claire gazed at herself and thought of her fiancé, fighting back the mist in her eyes. She piled her long hair atop her head in a makeshift bun, admiring the detail at the back of the gown, and ignoring everyone and everything around her.

Wiping a wayward tear from her cheek, a small smile played at her lips and she imagined the look on his face once he had seen her walking the aisle leading to him.

It _was _lovely, though. Mermaid, she'd heard among the chatting, covered in antique lace and delicate beading over the bodice and was the faintest shade of blush.

Quil would love it. She couldn't wait to meet eyes with him once he'd seen her.

Reverence, she'd call it. Maybe even a tear or two.

_Yes_, she thought with a simple smile. _This is the dress. _

_-_


	3. Chapter 3 Give and Take

**Chapter 3 - Give and Take**

**

* * *

  
**

**:::EMBRY:::**

"Seriously, Dude. You owe me big. Epic big," Quil grunted for the fifth time that morning, attempting to maneuver the large couch up the narrow stairs of Embry's new condo. "I don't know why you couldn't just get movers in here to help you."

"I know, I know I do, and why get movers when I've got you guys?" Embry had called the rest of their friends, and all but two were unable to help him move, and even they couldn't make it until well after lunch. How convenient that daughter's ballet recitals and trips to the market with grandmothers were impeding upon their ability to help him get all his crap into this place this particular morning.

His move into the much larger, loft-style space was past due. Things were picking up considerably at the gallery, and now he could afford something that had spacious rooms for painting and the storage of his own massive collection of artwork.

"Yeah… turn it this way," he continued, gripping the black leather sofa more firmly, walking backwards up the steep stairwell, taking each step carefully to keep his balance.

"So, how are things with the wife?" Embry asked through clenched teeth as he set the large piece of furniture in the middle of the living room.

"Oh, Claire's good." Quil said wiping his hand on his sweatpants. "The whole wedding planning thing has her a little riled up, and you know, her mom, is a bit..." A wide grin broke across Quil's face as he gestured his index finger in a circle at his temple, "which isn't really helping the situation at all."

"Yeah, I know how that can be. You know how my mom is… Hey, I'm thinking we should try and get all the larger pieces in first. I have those big ass beds for both rooms, plus the dining stuff, so we can start there," Embry said taking the stairs back to the first floor quickly, with Quil just behind him. "Hopefully, we'll have more help by then."

"Uh. Yeah, I hope so, too," Quil said rolling his eyes and walking up the truck's ramp. As he grabbed one end of the overstuffed arm chair to his left, Embry followed his lead, taking the opposite side and bending his knees. "You know the suits are done, and we have that final fitting next weekend, so make sure you meet us up at the Ralph Lauren store on 44th."

"Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. You're as bad as Claire."

"Well, I have to be. She'd cut my balls off if I didn't keep you motherfuckers in line. And trust me; I'm actually kinda partial to my sack."

Embry couldn't help but laugh at that sentiment. From what Quil had told him, Claire and her family were pretty serious about this whole wedding thing. After he realized that no one really wanted to know his opinion on really anything besides his fiancé, Quil relented and decided that all he needed to know was where to go and what time to be there and everything should be copacetic.

"Hey," Embry began, setting down the surprisingly light large chair, "how's Leah doing?"

Quil stopped for a moment, raising a knowing eyebrow and laughed. His friend always managed to wiggle his sister into their conversations. Embry and Leah dated briefly when they all were in high school, but things fell apart, as teenage romances tend to do.

"She's good; just started her residency up at St. Catherine's," he said breathlessly, jogging down the stairs towards the truck once more.

"How's that boyfriend of hers doing? Chris?"

"Dude, just ask her out already and put us all out of our misery," Quil said playfully pushing his friend. "And if you had your stalking skills together at all, you'd know that they broke up about a month ago. You aren't on the job very well, are you?"

"See, it's all a part of my plan. I'm gonna beg Claire to pair us up in the wedding. You know how girls get all sentimental at weddings? Yeah, it should be easy, all I have to do is turn on the 'ole Call charm." Embry wagged his eyebrows, picking up the wide ends of a large mahogany headboard and maneuvering it down the ramp and into the building, with Quil just behind him with other pieces of the bed.

"Um, can we not talk about how you are strategically planning on macking my sister and just say we did? Thanks."

Embry's snickering was uncontrollable, as he paused to lean against one of the exposed brick walls. He had been thinking about Leah more and more these days, hoping to rekindle something with her. Each time he saw her, and that seemed to be a lot more lately with the wedding approaching, he was reminded of how amazing a woman she was, strong and intelligent, always so sure of herself, and that was so sexy to him.

"Okay, so, we can get those dressers next, then take a break for a second," Embry said, nodding his head in Quil's direction and wiping his brow. He was grateful for the cooler summer day in Philadelphia. It had been a hot summer and that would just not do well for moving conditions.

"She did ask about you, you know?" Quil added after several moments.

"What?! And you failed to tell me this why?"

"Well, you were dating that Kennedy girl. Jenna, was it?

"Shut up. And she was a Shriver."

"Whatever the hell," Quil deadpanned with a flippant gesture of his hand. "Anyway, you were with her at the time, so I thought you were good on the girl front."

"Thanks a lot for nothing dude. You're supposed to keep me in the loop about Leah."

"Um, no, I'm not. You're a big boy. If you want to date my sister, then you need to hop to it and grow a pair."

"Shut up. I gotta get some new friends…" He stopped mid-stride, deep in thought. "Wait, see, this works even better," Embry said, setting the dresser down and maneuvering it against the wall. "Here?"

"Man! Will you go!?" Quil urged, annoyed as the heavy dresser was cutting into his fingers. The two set it down and he stepped back, assessing the positioning. "Yeah, that works, and the bed can go here," he said, gesturing to a space against a far wall.

"Well, me and Jenna are over. She was way too caught up in status, and that's just not my thing. So, now I'm free and clear. Can you _please_ put in good word for me with her? Shit, do something."

"Now, why would I ever want my sister dealing with a loser like you?" Quil joked. It was all good-natured; Quil actually loved his friend like a brother. Their families had spent countless holidays together; his mother loved both Jacob and Embry like her own. Their life paths had begun braiding themselves together long ago.

He quickly remembered their 17-year-old selves when Embry's parents were out of town while they were in their junior year of high school. They'd snuck out of the house to a party with Jacob in tow, drinking and doing things no teen should be taking part in. She'd caught them and dragged them all out of the party, punishing each of them just the same.

"Okay," Quil said glancing around. "How the fuck one man has so much shit by himself is beyond me."

"Hey, hey. I'm an artist, and I'm serious about my work. I have a creative mind."

"You're joking right?" Quil said scoffed.

"Can you please stop bitching for, like, 15 seconds and let's get this done? Or do you have more nagging to do?"

"Wait, fucker, _I am_ helping _you_. Don't you forget that. I got out a warm bed with a soft naked woman lying there to help your ugly ass," Quil said with a smile, grabbing the edge of another dresser and tilting it toward him as Embry grabbed the opposite end, hoisting it on his forearms.

"You just have to let everyone know that little bit of info, huh?" Embry mused, grunting as he carefully walked backwards up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

"You know it."

"Oh, and before they get here, we never did get a chance to talk about the whole Jake-Rose situation."

"Oh yeah, shit dude, I can't believe I haven't gotten a chance to tell you about that. It was like, forever ago."

"Yeah, yeah, so what happened?"

"Well, Jake didn't even want me to talk about it at all. He just sulked around our house for a few days, then decided to go home when he knew Rose wouldn't be there."

"Right, right. So, let me hear it again," Embry said excitedly, grabbing a large box marked 'kitchen' and gesturing for Embry to help him. "This one's heavy, grab the other side. It's mostly dishes."

"Okay," Quil said, obliging. "So, yeah, we walk in the door after we left you guys at the club. Jake runs upstairs for not even 5 minutes. I'm in the kitchen waiting on him."

"Can I just say that motherfucker is forever forgetting something,_ somewhere?_" Embry interjected.

"…and you know this," Embry says rolling his eyes. "So, he runs down the stairs breathing hard and walking around crazy - you remember that time when he got in that fight with Travis Meyers over his sister in tenth grade? Yeah, that was the last time I saw him looking that fucking nuts."

"Oh, shit..." Embry grabbed a bottle of water and threw it to Quil, then cracked open the top of his own and took a few deep swallows of the cold liquid.

"So yeah, talking crazy and Rose comes down right after him - I know this is bad, but, can I say how hot she is?"

"Uh, duh, anyone with a dick can see that, I won't tell the wife," Embry replies with a shrug.

"Thanks... so yeah, she comes down all sweaty, her hair a mess, and at first I didn't know what the fuck was going on. But then, this guy comes down, like right after that, then Jake just loses it."

"Shit, I would have too," Embry said, shaking his head. "They've been together for what, two years, and have that house together? That's some fucked up shit."

"Yes it was, and dude, I wished to God you or somebody else was there too, because you know how fucking huge Jake is. It took everything in me to pull him off the guy."

"Shit, I'd have killed that motherfucker. You guys would've had to come get me out of prison."

"Me too," Quil agreed,."And you know me, I don't fight, but that's enough to murder someone. The fact that he caught her had to have been the worst," he said, walking back towards the stairs. "So yeah, I'm surprised the guy didn't press charges, 'cause Jake fucked him up pretty badly. He told me that the guy was married or engaged or something, so it'd be pretty hard to explain that situation to the wife."

"Fuck yeah," Embry said shaking his head. "I talked to him yesterday, but about some wedding stuff, not about this. How's he doing?"

"He's okay, I guess, as much as can be expected. He's real broken up about the situation, trying to figure out what to do with the ring. Says she keeps trying to talk to him about it, but he can't talk to her, says he can't even really look at her anymore."

"Damn, but can't say I feel too bad about it. I mean, for Jake's sake I am, but I never thought she was right for him, not really," Embry said.

"Well, you know how I feel about her. She was never really my favorite person for him anyway. But you gotta let folks do what they wanna do. The last thing you want to do is tell your friend that you don't like someone they love. Fastest way to get somebody pissed at you."

"You said it."

"So, this is what you call moving, huh?" Jacob's deep voice tinged with humor. "I must move all the time, because it just looks like you're just fucking around to me." His large frame suddenly filled the open doorway. He paused, then looked around the room, silently assessing the work that had already been done. Seth followed behind him, glancing around, then heading for the kitchen.

"Says the guy who shows up three hours into the move," Embry mused, taking the hand Jacob had extended him into a quick embrace.

"I swear, y'all are some of the laziest motherfuckers I know," Seth smiled. "Don't you know the meaning of hard work? I mean, really," he continued, his words dripping with cheerful sarcasm.

"_Finally_," Embry breathed. "We've handled most of the furniture. It's just getting all the boxes downstairs in the truck up here."

"Okay, let's do it," Jacob said, already walking toward the door. They headed downstairs to the awaiting boxes and other personal items realizing it would take several trips to finish the job.

"Dude, did you _have_ to move on the top floor? I mean, really," Seth complained.

"Of course he did, he lives to make our lives a living hell. There's no way I'd rather be spending my Saturday than by helping this dude move his shit," Jacob grabbed two large suitcases from the trunk of Embry's car. "Nope, can't think of a single one."

"Okay, okay," Embry finally responded, "are you jackasses gonna do this all afternoon? I just need to know if you girls are gonna be PMSing or can we actually get this finished?"

"Oh no, trust that we'll get this handled, and you'll be handling lunch and dinner. I feel like a steak, what about you, Quil?"

"Steak's good. Prime cut, of course."

"Of course," Jacob agreed with an over-exaggerated bob of his head.

"Hey, Quil, what time do we have to be there next Saturday again? I have an exam that morning, so I wanna make sure I can get there on time."

"Claire says it's at 9. The one over on 44th."

"So, what's the deal with these bridesmaids? Any of them hot?" Seth said suggestively. "You know that's what weddings are all about, the hookup. And I've seen a couple of Claire's friends already, and they were smokin.' That girl Angela? Damn."

"Yeah, that's why I love these things: emotional women, booze, dancing, all the makeup of a killer evening," Embry said with a smile.

Jacob was silent, still licking his wounds from Rose-gate, as his friends had now come to know it. His mother had come by several times to check on him and bring him meals. He was still having the hardest time attempting to focus on work, his heart still shattered in millions of pieces. The pain was still there, though now, instead of a fiery, all-consuming blaze, it was more of an ache - a dull pain that never let up, however much he wanted it to.

"You know," Seth said clearly, reading his far away expression and grabbing one of the few remaining boxes. He looked up into the clear blue day, then turned to Jacob. "I know you're still dealing with the Rosalie thing, but I can think of about ten girls off the top of my head that would love to go out with you."

"Yeah, man," Embry hesitantly added. "You know Kate, my assistant? She saw you at the opening and really wanted me to introduce you guys." He paused to gauge Jacob's reaction before continuing. "Obviously at the time you really couldn't do anything, but she's a sweetheart if you want me to hook it up."

Jacob was quiet briefly, mulling over his friend's suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds okay, maybe we can get a drink or something. May as well drown my sorrows."

His friends all looked at each other, then back at Jacob with sympathy. He wasn't over Rosalie, not by a long shot. The best thing would be to wait it out and maybe throw some women in his direction in the meantime.

"That's the spirit!" Embry said, grabbing one of the last boxes in the truck and following the group up the stairs, dropping it on top of the black lacquer stove and glancing around. "I think that's it guys."

It had taken the better part of the afternoon, but the group had sufficiently completed assisting Embry with his move. "You guys want to get something to eat? My treat."

"Yes, it _is_ your treat," Jacob said, slapping Embry loudly on the back, to the murmurs and chuckles of the group.

"And, can I just say, don't ask me for anything for at least a year, because it's gonna be no. Always no," Quil said with a large smile crossing his face.

"What are you talking about? I'm in your wedding, _you_ owe _me_." Embry turned to him incredulously. Quil smiled at his friend for a few moments, not responding, just nodding his head amidst the laughter and ribbing. He did owe him - he couldn't deny that – because he was getting so much more from his friend.

More than he could ever say.

-

* * *

**A/N - I love this one. It was simple, but showed how much the guys are there for each other in crappy circumstances. Plus, a little banter never hurt anyone :)**


	4. Chapter 4 Left To Be Here

**Chapter 4 - Left To Be Here**

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**:::JACOB:::**

For the rest of his life, he'd remember everything that happened that night with near inhuman, excruciatingly perfect detail.

He'd later think bitterly how he couldn't remember his first day of junior high school, or the first boy-girl party he'd ever attended or even what the topic of the first university lecture he'd ever sat through was.

But he could always remember _this_.

_He had spent a little longer than was needed getting ready. _

Hell, what _does_ someone wear after their girlfriend cheats on them and he's attempting to hide the fact that he's dying a slow, wrenching death inside? Jacob remembered sadly how Rosalie would always lay out his clothing, so he'd never really have to think about such things.

_Quil had commented hesitantly how much of a girl he was being. _

Just enough to make Jacob smile and select a t-shirt and jeans quickly. He had seen Jacob's mood increasingly decline and being the only person to really understand the gravity of the night and what transpired with Rosalie, he felt it almost his duty to be there and support his friend until he got his arms around such a fucked up situation.

_It had rained briefly that night._

In spite of the weather, Jacob was in good spirits considering the crap month he'd been having. Quil had tried his hardest, and was beginning to see the small cracks in the shell of sadness covering his friend. It would be all about beers and wings and the game that night, and that was just fine with him.

_Jacob walked to Quil's car, noticing how the deep gray paint gleamed in the moonlight. _

He climbed into the vehicle and Quil turned up the volume of his satellite radio to an upbeat song.

Despite himself, Jacob leaned his head against the headrest and got lost with his thoughts. He was hurting, and he knew that time would really be the only thing to add the salve to the wounds around his heart. He wished he could step inside a time machine and fast forward to a year from now, to when he knew he'd be away from the raw emotions consuming him.

_Everything reminded him of her. Everything._

He'd made his way days later to his home. The house still smelled like her – like honeysuckle and fresh breeze. He couldn't sleep and had a maid come in to clean top to bottom because he smelled her everywhere, and just couldn't deal.

He dropped his bag near the doorway and glanced around, looking for the changes, what would be or wouldn't be left of her. She'd begun clearing out her clothing, but not nearly fast enough, considering the last conversation the two had had.

Part of him didn't want her to go at all. A large part.

But then, the vivid scene replayed in his mind, like an all-consuming, carnivorous being, eating away at his compassion, his forgiveness, replacing both with a bitterness that he'd never felt before.

He wondered where she was. If she was alone or with _him_.

The thought of her running into his arms was enough to make Jacob call her and forgive all transgressions, if for nothing else, his own stubborn pride. He didn't want her at the moment, but, he couldn't stand for her to be with anyone other than him. It just wasn't fair. How did she get to cheat on him, ruin all his plans for the future, then ride off into the sunset with the man she'd broken Jacob's heart with?

He tried and managed quite successfully not to talk to his friends about the situation, and definitely not about how it made him feel.

He had cried silently the entire car ride to Claire and Quil's home, angry with himself for letting his friend see him that recklessly emotional. He knew that his intuitive, empathic friend would never judge his show of pain, would never speak about it, would never tell others anything about it at length. That brought some measure of comfort to Jacob, however small.

He wandered around in a daze for the following two weeks. Barely making it into work, and, if he hadn't already planned his lectures for the semester, he was sure he would have been fired for lack of actual teaching. Even as he tried his hardest to remain professional, Jacob was sure his classes sensed the change in his usual upbeat demeanor, especially his student aide, Colin.

"Dude," Quil said glancing at Jacob from the corner of his eye, "get out of your brain for a second, will you? I can hear you thinking," he said with a smile.

_He was in a sickeningly-sweet, but infectiously good, mood that night._

Never one to pass up the opportunity to bring about his friend's laughter though, even in his depression, Jacob mentioned something particularly funny about their friend Paul, and as usual, Quil belted out his booming laughter as they approached the stop light.

_It was particularly muggy that night for Philadelphia. _

They always had warm summers, but coupled with the recent rain, the onset of night did little to rid them of the heat.

He wiped a bead of sweat forming on his brow, happy he put on an undershirt, fiddling with the knobs of air conditioning, all the while Quil chattered on. He intentionally didn't mention Claire or the wedding, dancing around both subjects for Jacob's benefit. The last thing his friend needed to hear was how in love he was or how excited he was about his upcoming nuptials.

Jacob continued, chuckling almost too hard to complete his sentence and review the punch-line as the stoplight ahead turned green. The duo pulled out into the street, as they had the right of way.

_There were lights everywhere, really._

Lit restaurant and bar signs. Dozens of pairs of headlights sprinkling the intersection with beams illuminating the road ahead.

But those didn't matter. Not really.

The ones that caught Jacob's attention were the ones gradually becoming larger to his left.

Bright white lights- two of them- tinged in an arctic blue.

_Quil had eyes straight ahead on the road._

Bright red and blazing.

A Jeep, heading directly for them on the driver's side.

Quil's side.

_The sound of his own heartbeat thumping in his ears._

"Quil, st----!" The words spilled from his lips instinctively, somehow attempting to prevent the movie that played itself out in front of them.

_The deafening crunch as the vehicle was rocked with earth-shattering force. _

Then, he was sliding, hydroplaning across the large intersection.

The confusion set in, and his stomach was tossed with unrelenting impact. His equilibrium completely jostled though, that could only compare to the wind being knocked from his lungs.

_The crushing pressure against his chest, and a cloud of blinding white powder._

Jacob let out an involuntary loud yell, holding onto the handle of the door as the car was thrown several feet, flipping, then landing on its side.

_Pounding in his head._

"_Quil!....Quil!!"_

_Silence in return._

… _smell. Like… pennies. Old pennies..._

Then, he was sucked into the darkness.

* * *

After what seemed like both days and mere seconds of sleepless dreaming, he awoke to a pin of light that grew into a much larger beam shining brilliantly into his eyes. He shook his head out of the path of the bright ray, squinting, then squeezing his eyes closed.

White.

The crisp white shirt of the well-built older man with white hair standing to the left of him. He was the cause of that irritating light.

"He looks good," he murmured, clicking the pen and sliding it into his breast pocket. "I'll be back in a bit, once he's gotten his bearings. I'll send the nurse in," he said with a small polite smile in the direction of the blurry figures seated in front of him.

The sounds around him reminded him of being underwater, or after a shower before he shook the water from his ears: garbled and distorted.

He squinted again, then, through bleary vision, he saw his stepmom. And his father.

Rosalie was there. So was his sister, Rachel, now smiling at him.

"Quil…" he croaked.

Bad move.

His throat was dry as the Sahara, and burned just as badly. And scratchy.

"Hey dude," his older sister said with an even larger smile, "glad to see you."

Jacob swallowed unsuccessfully, nothing but air and the smallest portion of saliva made its way down his esophagus. He would try once more, "Quil…"

Where was his friend? He was sure his car was totaled. Too bad, he loved that thing like his own child. If he had one.

"Well?" he continued, awaiting his answer impatiently. He was growing more exasperated; he didn't know where he was or what was going on. Jacob did know, however, that his head was pounding. S_hit_.

Why was everyone looking at each other? He needed someone to answer him, damnit!

"Hey, why don't we get you some food, huh?" his father, Billy, said with a sad smile. "I'm sure you're thirsty, here." He handed Jacob a cup with ice water brimming at the top.

_Score_! Jacob took it greedily and gulped down the cold liquid in one swig.

"I don't want any food," he swallowed. "Where's Quil?"

He had a broken arm.

He had scratches and bruises.

Nothing a couple Advil and a cast couldn't take care of.

"Honey," his stepmother said slowly, like she was attempting to explain complex mathematical equations to a seven-year-old. "Jake, Quil… he... He didn't make it."

He looked at her like she was speaking in ancient Greek. That's what it sounded like to him, anyway.

"What?" he whispered, looking around the room to the faces of everyone, each pair of eyes on him, watching for his reaction.

He looked to each of them, waiting, willing any one of them to disagree with his her words. No, no, that can't be right. He had just been with Quil.

No, that isn't true. He's only twenty-eight; people that young don't die.

"Jake, he..." his father attempted to clarify, sensing his son's confusion. He was sure the concussion wasn't helping his cognitive function. "Jake, they got the guy, he was drunk… Quil, he…"

Jacob immediately clenched his fists, then lifted both hands to his ears, attempting to muffle the words. No. _No! _

"No..." he said, sitting up in the small hospital bed, the doctor silently leaving the room and closing the door with a soft click.

It was too fucking quiet in that room. He needed to get out.

"Jake, don't!" Rosalie wanted to go to him so badly, to touch his face, to kiss his swollen jaw. When his stepmother awoke her last night telling her that Jake had been in a pretty bad car accident, she didn't hesitate to jump into her car and fly to St. Catherine's in half the time it would have normally taken. He was unconscious when she finally arrived at the emergency room and didn't look as bad as she had feared. And he was alive. That was the fact that she delighted in and was relieved by. She still loved him, and she knew she couldn't live if anything had ever happened to her Jake. Even in light of all the issues they were currently having.

Jacob ignored her plead and attempted to get out of the bed, swinging his bare feet onto the concrete hospital room floor.

He had to find Quil, he had to see him. Why were they all telling him these lies? He had to find Claire, she'd tell him the truth. Jacob felt his heart beating more rapidly in his chest, anxiety crawling its way over his body,.

He had to find Ms. Atera. He was sure she was worried sick, especially with all these lies about her son floating around. He had to get out of this room; the walls were closing in on him.

"Where are my clothes?" he said. Jacob was becoming more and more annoyed with his confusion as he glanced around the hospital room. "What time is it?"

He couldn't have been here longer than a few hours. He'd check on Quil, then he could head home.

"Jake…." Rachel began with a furrowed brow, bringing her wrist watch up and glancing down. "It's, it's 9:18 in the morning. But you can't leave. The doctor wants to watch you for a while longer to make sure the concussion didn't do more damage."

Wait, concussion? 9:18? He had been there for almost 16 hours? That didn't sound right.

His father stood first, wrapping a steadying arm around Jacob's shoulders as he began searching the small drawers for his clothing, catching sight of his face in the mirror.

He glanced harder at himself, turning his head side-to-side, trying to take in the full extent of the injuries to his face and upper body. He was pretty banged up, but not anything some ice couldn't get rid of. He had a few bruises, a split lip, and his chest ached like a motherfucker, but besides that, he'd be okay.

"Baby," his stepmother's concern spread further across her sharp features, "Jake, honey, I… we brought you some new clothes, they… they had to cut… they had to get rid of the ones you were wearing."

Cut them off? Uncertainty washed over him again, as he took the bag she held out to him and silently walked into the restroom to change.

Jacob slid the nondescript red t-shirt over his head carefully, painfully aware with each move of his physical discomfort, most acutely in his chest. After sliding into the jeans and flip flops from the pile, he exited, taking one last look into the concerned faces of his family and ex-girlfriend.

He walked out into the hallway and caught sight of Claire first.

Deep blue bruises shadowed under her blood shot eyes. Her face was flushed and wet from crying as she held frantically onto Leah's waist in the chair next to hers. Her white-knuckled hands clasped desperately at a black scrap of fabric.

Jacob looked away quickly, eyes widening after realizing it was the dress shirt Quil had been wearing the night before.

Leah's sobs, loud and filled with pain, overflowed into the air as her face contorted in despair and disbelief. Ms. Atera sat opposite her, clinging onto her husband who was trying desperately to not fall apart in front of his family. Sensing his presence in the small waiting area, the pair turned eyes up at Jacob, as did most of the people in the room.

"Jake!" Claire flew to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his abdomen, causing him to wince slightly, then wrap an arm around her.

"What are we gonna do…_Quil_!" Her sobs shook her feminine frame to the core, her tears dampening his t-shirt. She was slowly losing her grip on reality, feeling her mind begin to float away, and talking to him about the only thing securing her to the ground.

"What?" he said, instinctively wrapping his other arm around her, still glancing around, not sure where to rest his gaze.

Jacob was afraid.

He took a step back, attempting to gain his bearings, taking Claire with him against the wall.

"I don't… I don't understand. I just… he was just here. What…what happened?"

"It just happened about an hour ago. They worked on him all night. It was pretty bad, Jake. Are you… are you okay?" Claire hiccupped, her brown eyes softening in her sorrow.

This couldn't be happening. Everything was fuzzy and blurred around its edges, like a dream. He furrowed his brow, refusing to believe this was occurring.

He was just with him.

He just saw him.

His friend was getting married next month. Embry and he were supposed to be his best men.

What about their vacation planned for next summer?

What about…

What about…

…and Seth…and Sam.

They were all here.

"Oh no," Jake moaned, breaking away from her and finding Embry sitting alone against a solitary wall with his head hidden in his forearms across his knees. His friend looked up at him with the most painful, excruciating expression.

He had never seen him cry before.

"No, no, no, no, no," he chanted, shaking his head and feeling his legs weaken.

He felt hands on his shoulders, strong and comforting.

"Where's Quil!?" Jacob shouted to his father. "Where is he?!"

A single tear escaped Billy's saddened eyes as he wordlessly attempted to pull Jacob into an embrace.

Jacob mumbled as he lost his footing and almost stumbled into the wall, attempting to escape what he already knew.

No longer able to hold himself standing, he rested his back against the wall and slid into a sitting position, the sobs wracking his body.

The tears didn't stop. Not that day.

Or the day after.

Jacob willed them to cease. Or, he'd take the tears, if the pain would go.

He felt himself falling, falling into the darkness.

_He was afraid_, the blackness clawing at his heart, the unrest threatening his sanity.

The bleak abyss he wasn't sure he'd ever find a way out of. He was drowning.

He couldn't breathe.

-

* * *

**A/N - This was extremely difficult for me to write, as I've become rather attached to each of the characters, and damnit if Jake isnt going through enough right now to deal with this shit. Read on though, again, there is something so much larger than this coming in the future.**

**And, in case you were wondering, the title of this chapter came from the Alicia Keys song, _Like You'll Never See Me Again_:**

If I had no more time  
No more time** left to be here**  
Would you cherish what we had?  
Was it everything that you were looking for?  
If I couldn't feel your touch  
And no longer were you with me  
I'd be wishing you were here  
To be everything that I'd be looking for  
I don't wanna forget the present is a gift  
And I don't wanna take for granted the time you may have here with me  
'Cause Lord only knows another day is not really guaranteed

So every time you hold me  
Hold me like this is the last time  
Every time you kiss me  
Kiss me like you'll never see me again  
Every time you touch me  
Touch me like this is the last time  
Promise that you'll love me  
Love me like you'll never see me again...


	5. Chapter 5 Our Own Escape

**Chapter 5 - Our Own Escape**

* * *

-

She'd always wondered why black was the socially-accepted color to wear to these things. When her grandfather died two years ago, she, her mother and sisters had all gone to Neimans and searched for Sunday-best shirts, slacks, dresses, skirts.

All in black.

Glancing tiredly at the dress hanging against the door, she sighed heavily and played with a stray string on her bath towel, void of all emotion.

She found herself sitting on the edge of the double bed in her childhood room, staring at the same paint swirl pattern on the wall opposite her for the past twenty minutes, towel still draped around her naked body, black hair still damp and stick-straight, now becoming matted against her scalp. She knew better than to let the tangled mess begin to dry before running a brush through to the ends.

She just didn't care.

"Claire, honey," her mother said softly in the doorway, "we need to leave in an hour or so... Claire?" It took a few seconds for her daughter to glance in her direction, though she never really focused on the actual words she uttered. She turned lifeless eyes up at her mother, nodding slightly, and tightening the falling towel around the tops of her breasts.

Daphne was at a loss with how to talk to her daughter. Her level of pain was beyond her comprehension, so she did the best she could, and gave her all the love she had within her. Her heart ached for her eldest child, but somehow found solace in the fact that she needed her at this agonizing point in her young life.

Her once lively personality and animated eyes had diminished to a blank expression that bordered on catatonic. Claire hadn't left her room in the past two days, and before that, her mother and sister had to physically carry her to the bathroom to shower and force her to eat even the smallest portions of food.

She hadn't really slept in the days that followed the accident. The nightmares had begun soon after and Claire was terrified to close her eyes. The thin line between reality and dreams blurred dangerously close, and she wasn't ready to differentiate the two for fear of what she would find.

Her Quil. Her love. He was gone.

What happened to their forever?

She cursed God and all the angels of Heaven and demons of Hell for allowing this.

After a half-hour, Kathrine poked her head in to check on her sister to find her sitting in the same place, staring at the same swirl, string still wrapped around her graceful fingers, and called to her mother. The two helped Claire into her dress and designer shoes, applied makeup to her beautiful face, and pulled her thick hair into a smooth chignon.

Though, the moment her mother zipped her chic, but appropriately sheath, she suddenly knew why _black_.

Black was the only color that suited her mood.

Black hid the stains of tears.

Claire's family drove to Quil's parents' home, where they all were gathered awaiting the arrival of the limousine.

She couldn't bear looking at any of them for very long, her own grief reflected so vivid and raw back at her in the eyes of each of them was too much to endure.

Though his parents were remaining strong considering, Leah was beside herself and took to a private corner of the sitting room to cry silently into a tissue. Mrs. Atera's eyes were red and swollen from crying half the morning as they finalized the arrangements and itinerary for the day. Claire politely placed kisses on both her and his father's cheeks, nodding dully as they tried to comfort her.

She hadn't cried yet that day.

Crying would make this all too real.

Two shiny black limousines slowed to a stop in front of the home and she followed her queue to climb into the back along with his immediate family. Leah slid in next to her and laced her fingers in hers, catching her gaze and touching her cheek.

So funny the things that bring people together.

Claire's heart ache had long since been replaced by numbness. She couldn't allow herself, for even a moment, to feel the pain. If she did, even for a second, she knew she'd never be able to swim to the surface of her depression.

Anxiety, the first emotion that seeped into her consciousness in days, spread throughout her as they arrived at the church, just as six large men were carrying a simple mahogany casket through the front doors.

These were supposed to be his groomsmen.

All the people he loved, she loved, all in one place, that, if things had gone so much differently, she'd be wearing a white dress instead of a black one. She'd be in a limousine with 4 other women, all dressed in the fabulous gowns she had painstakingly selected, entering a church.

But all that was snatched from her in a split second.

Her forever was stolen.

She stared at each of their faces, Embry and Jacob's mirroring her own hopelessly vacant expression, and she felt the tears threatening to pool in her eyes, but she swatted the pain away quickly.

She couldn't do this.

Everything in her body was telling her to run, to get the hell out of there and never look back. Memories of Quil etched into her mind would have to be her comfort, not this.

Despite this, she entered and walked the aisle, lagging slightly behind his parents, and taking her seat between Embry and Jacob, sliding her palms into each of theirs.

Her need to be with each of them at that moment flared surprisingly within her. She needed to touch them, his two closest friends still holding pieces of him, some she didn't even know of. One, the last one to see Quil that night, the other, knowing Quil longer than any other. Only they could even remotely come close to understanding the emotions churning inside her.

Embry handed her the program with Quil's broad smile staring back at her. Across the cover was one of her favorite pictures of him, taken just the summer before while they vacationed in Martha's Vineyard. An almost indistinguishable smile played at the corners of her mouth as she remembered their time at the beach, and their time, more memorably, inside the lush guest house of her parents' summer home.

She would never touch him again.

The pastor's words were just white noise to her ears, as she blocked out the well-wishes and kindnesses spilling from his lips. He didn't know her Quil, not personally, so she considered his words ceremonial at best and inconsequential. Instead, she passed a side glance at Jacob and the pain on his face was so unrestrained with emotion, she had to turn away. She squeezed his hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

Jacob squeezed Claire's hand in return, welcoming the comforting feel of it, however small the gesture.

They decided that Quil would have wanted a closed casket. Jacob knew his best friend, and he let his family know in no uncertain terms, that Quil would have wanted everyone to remember him as he was. His funny, slow-to-speak, sarcastic self. So, throughout the service, those glancing at the front of the chapel were met with the handsome casket with a floral arrangement lying atop it.

After a day or so, Jacob's memory came flooding back to him, and it crippled him beyond his understanding. His stepmom had all but moved into his home, taking care of various arrangements, cleaning and cooking, without him ever having to ask for help.

After realizing that work would be impossible, he'd had a long conversation with the director of his division, telling him he would have to take a leave of absence, then made the appropriate arrangement with several members on his team that would handle the projects he'd been working on. He hated leaving everything so much in the air, but at that point, he really couldn't think that far in the future. He was living day-to-day, trying to keep hold of what little will he still had.

Jacob and Embry had leaned on each other during this time, as neither knew when the days would prove effortless to manage or the sadness would not be so unbearable that emerging from bed would be nearly impossible.

Embry had tried to head over to the gallery a couple of days prior, sending away Kate gruffly. He didn't need her pitying eyes staring at him, not now or ever. Just after they left the hospital the day of the accident, he went to his home, running fingers over various boxes that he still hadn't gotten to yet. He couldn't be around anyone at that moment. He felt the pain filling to the brink, threatening to burst the carefully-placed seams he had made to get him through the next day.

Blasting music as loud as he could stand in the large space, he found several large blank canvases leaning against a far wall. He unrolled his brushes and located the myriad pastels and oils and began.

_It hurt._ Dip, slather. Dip, stroke.

_It hurt so bad._ Dip, smear, splatter.

Why did this have to happen now? At at time in Embry's life when things were beginning to line up just right? The way he had always imagined his life going.

In the midst of his work, sweat and tears blinded him. He continued, stripping off most of his clothing, standing only in a pair of nylon shorts. At the end of a long day and night, his lean body, covered in paint and drying saline, sunk to the floor, too tired to go further.

The next morning, he pulled himself up from where he had landed on his couch, realizing again as more fresh wounds formed across his heart, that his friend still gone.

He glanced at his work from the day before. It was beautiful.

…and the tears began once more.

Today was a hard day.

Embry guessed that was a given.

Hard to get out of bed. Hard to get dressed. Hard to grip the handles of the heavy wooden box Quil now lie in.

It was all painfully h_ard_.

But, what is life, if not a struggle, right? And this too shall pass.

He repeated that simple phrase to himself often, though it did little to comfort him, but it did help to keep his mind off the pain in his heart.

Jacob never thought he could love another man, not like this, but he loved his friend deeply. He realized that now. That reality made him become fiercely protective of Embry. He couldn't lose him, too. Not _ever_.

When asked, he had originally declined speaking at the funeral, mostly because he was positive he couldn't make it through the entire thing still standing. How do you say goodbye to someone you'd known for the majority of your life? Someone who'd been a constant factor in your existence? The one person, family included, that you could always depend on, even in the most fucked up of situations?

But, after some kind words from his mother, Jacob decided that he owed it to his friend to speak, but only if Embry agreed to stand beside him for support. They were a trio, and it only felt right.

Jacob ran his fingers through his hair anxiously as he realized that it was nearing their time to speak. He craned his head slightly to look at Embry and, squeezing Claire's hand once more, he stood to take his spot at the raised podium.

"Quil Atera was our closest friend. We've known him since we were all just about six or seven years old," Jacob began, glancing to Embry for confirmation. "He was always the voice of reason, even back then…"

Jacob and Embry agreed that their eulogy would be most authentic if they spoke from their hearts with a few notes for support, in place of complete prepared speech.

With a smile, Embry launched into a full flash back of the three of them at a fall junior high dance and Embry was terrified to dance with a girl he had secretly been in love with for several years of his young life.

"_All you have to do is go over and ask her to dance," Jacob shrugged and sipped his red punch, his pubescent voice cracking in various octaves from its hormonal changes._

"_Okay," Embry had said, glancing at either of them for assurance. "I can do this, right? She's just a girl, and I'm a great guy. I have a lot going for myself," he continued, trying to boost his own confidence._

"_Yeah, you do," Quil said rolling his eyes with a smile. "Just don't do anything weird or stupid. We think it's cool, but girls really hate that…"_

Not long after some laughter, and a lot of tears, the attendees made it out the graveside area. It was warm, even in the early morning, but a gentle breeze drifted to where they were all congregating. Covered in a kelly green tent cover, it was set atop a steep hill blanketed in the most beautiful wild flowers that had somehow still grown in around the graves. Several chairs for close family and friends were simply arranged. There was a brief rites reading, allowing the attendees to place items on the casket.

Claire's disbelief shattered once she straightened out the program she'd been gripping since the service, gazing at his twinkling eyes and playful smile, though, what resonated most heavily with her, were the dates.

Just a week ago.

He really was gone.

She dropped her head, and shrugged against Jacob's strong, warm embrace that must have sensed her breaking, cracking under the perfect, numb veneer that had successfully gotten her to this point without slipping into a grief-endued coma.

Her sobs and wails and cries shook Embry to his core, and his own disbelief mingled with hers.

"Why!" he cried, dropping his head into his hands. "Why!" His sobs shook his body violently, as Leah ran to sit beside him, allowing him to drop his head into her lap as she silently rocked him, dabbing her tears, and letting a breath through pursed lips.

"This is so hard…." Jacob whispered, biting his lip. "Quil…so fucking hard…"

He cursed the piece of shit that did this to his friend. He cursed himself for not driving.

Embry wasn't sure how long the four of them sat crying and mourning the loss of their friend, but once his sobs had subsided, only Quil's parents were left; the rest had made begun making their way to his family's home for refreshments.

The sun remained high in the sky and he shrugged out of the suit jacket that had become suffocating in the heat, lifting his head from Leah's comforting embrace. He looked at her and gratefully wrapped his arms around her, attempting to comfort her the way she had helped her just moments before.

"You know he loved you," Leah sighed, "all of you, very much." Her eyes drifted to his casket resting on its metal bars, waiting to be lowered into the ground. "Let's try to get over to our house, okay? I know there are some folks that want to talk to all of us." She tilted her head back, attempting to get her second wind and find her strength. "Why don't you guys ride back with us in the limo? It's waiting for us."

The thought of leaving him here caused a fresh wave of tears and sobs to spill from Claire. "I can't… I can't leave him…"

"I know Claire, _we_ know," Embry whispered, glancing again at his casket, "hey…hey… we need to be strong for his mother, huh?" He lifted her from Jacob's embrace and wrapped her in his own.

"Jake and I'll be there. We can do it together, okay?" Embry continued softly, glancing into Jacob's pained eyes.

Jacob nodded and glanced into the distance for a brief moment, and sighed. "Yeah…yeah."

They arrived at the house buzzing with condolence-wishers, then filled plates with food and glasses with soda that would go untouched.

Embry smiled. Jacob smiled. Claire smiled.

They were all numb.

All fake grins and mindless conversation.

None of them wanted to be there a second longer.

They wanted Quil back. He'd laugh at the nonsensical nature of it all.

Jacob felt himself being sucked under again. He was drowning. He had to get out. After placing a quick peck on Claire's cheek, saying his goodbyes to Quil's family, and hugging Embry as he stood alone in a corner nursing a glass of cognac, he escaped out the front door of the house. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be alone with his thoughts. No amount of bullshitting country club members or waxing nostalgic about Quil would bring him back, so he refused to take part in it any longer.

His head was fucking hurting again, and all this talking was just irritating him further. He had to get the hell out of this suit, he thought, looping his index finger in the knot of his tie and yanking it down in one quick motion as he found his SUV. Before he'd even gotten in the car, his navy blue jacket was off and draped over his arm, and his dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned revealing his light gray undershirt. He drove the twenty minutes back to his empty house, relishing the cool air that met him at the door. He welcomed the quiet.

Taking a few quick steps to the kitchen, he found some aspirin and downed a couple with a bottle of beer. _Hey, why the fuck not. _

These headaches were becoming a constant reminder that the accident had even happened. If the thumping in his head weren't so distracting, he'd welcome the pain. It made him remember he was alive. He hoped his bruises and scrapes never fully healed, never disappeared and forced him never to forget, to always remember that he was here, and Quil was not.

Pulling another bottle of beer from the fridge before he had barely tipped the other, he expertly popped the metal cap off the top of the second on the edge of the expensive counter top, sending it flying across the kitchen.

Rose hated it when he did that.

Reaching behind his neck, he pulled his tank over his head and threw it absently on a chair in the living room, sinking into the couch with his broad arms draped across its back and his feet on the coffee table. He may as well go for broke while his stepmother and Rosalie weren't around to complain about his behavior.

Jacob lay there, head slowly sliding, until it was completely resting just above his shoulders on the back of the couch, until the sun was no longer was high and blazing and its light was replaced with the ones filtering in from the city. His eyes began to droop, and he drifted slowly into that fuzzy realm between awake and asleep, where all was well in the world and he was still conscious enough to realize it, when there was a knock at the door.

Taking one more quick swig of his now lukewarm beer, Jacob strode to the front door and opened it to find Embry's glassy eyes peering back at him. He didn't say anything, just widened the door for his friend and walked back the kitchen, reaching for a beer and handing it to him.

"Hey," Embry murmured simply. He let his eyes run over Jacob 's face and half-naked torso; he looked like shit. Beyond the already-healing bruises sporadically covering his ribs and chest, his face looked haggard and exhausted. He couldn't have been sleeping very well. Shit, neither was he.

Embry knew he couldn't have stayed at Quil's parents' house for much longer after Jacob left, but he remained for the subsequent hours mostly for Claire's sake. She looked so lost, so alone in that sea of people; he just couldn't leave her there. She seemed grateful for his hand in hers, and his shoulder under her head, however quiet her thanks were.

He knew Jacob would head home. He knew he was really the only one who could understand how his heart was breaking then. The two sat in silence for a long while, both wordlessly acknowledging the pain in the room that was consuming them both. Around midnight, they were awoken by a soft, demure knock.

"Claire," Jacob breathed, running a hand over his hair, reaching for her, and pulling her into the house.

Her fresh tears were hot against his chest, and his own began to form. She didn't know how much longer she could cry; she just wanted the waves of pain to go away, and the numbness to return more permanently. She could never stay strong around Jacob and Embry though; when she saw their tired, knowing stares, it reached her so deeply and tugged away the mask.

She turned to Embry, who had made it into the hall and buried her face in his chest, dampening his expensive dress shirt.

"I...I..." She didn't know; the words wouldn't come. Her pain was blinding and incoherent, she just knew she had to be there. She had to be with these two, she had to have a piece of Quil that no one but the three of them even understood.

Embry smoothed her hair and placed a kiss on the top of her head, shushing and attempting to console her. Jacob walked past the two of them, once again into the kitchen to retrieve some water for the young woman.

She found herself curled onto the couch an hour later, leaning against Embry's chest with her head under his chin as she held on to his tie, wrapping it and un-wrapping it around her hand. Her legs rested on the length of the couch, while Jacob mindlessly rubbed the soft pads of her feet.

A million thoughts were racing through Jacob's mind. The insanity of it all, the pain, but mostly, the over whelming need to run, to get the fuck out of there.

"I... I gotta go," Jacob said softly to no one in particular.

"What? Where?" Embry questioned through furrowed brows.

"I don't know, I.. I just can stay here. I can't fucking do it…"

"Jake, dont..." Claire began, rising to a sitting position.

"No..." Jacob said looking around vaguely. "I gotta go..."

He pulled up his massive body, setting Claire's feet down, already walking towards the stairs.

"Jake, don't do this," Embry called behind him, then looked to Claire confusedly. The two followed him into his large master bedroom, watching him frantically search for various items about the room. He pulled a large black suitcase from the closet and began throwing things into it in a daze.

"Jake!" Claire called to him, "what the hell are you talking about? Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know," Jacob said, putting several t-shirts in the bag. "I just can't stay here. I can't stay in this house. I can't look at his family. I can't fucking see Rose. I can't do it anymore!" He stopped for the first time since he began packing his things and stared at his two friends, who were becoming increasingly more afraid.

"Jake, no," Embry pleaded. "You can't leave... We..."

"We... We need you. Don't make us do this alone," Claire pleaded tenderly, placing a stilling hand on his forearm, his shoes in his hand, hovering above the bag. He looked at her, putting a finger under her chin for a moment and kissing her temple in response.

Claire and Embry stared at him dubiously for the next few moments until the suitcase was filled and he dragged the zipper across the bag's mouth. He searched around once more, finding a t-shirt and sweatpants to change into, emerging from his walk-in closet.

Jacob crossed in front of Claire, who stood with arms crossed, grabbing the handle of his suitcase, his arm straining against the size and weight of it as he snatched it off the bed.

"Well, I'm fucking coming," Embry said absolutely, sure his friend would fight him on it. He was met with silence. Jacob paused for a moment, glancing at both of them, then slid into his running sneakers.

"Embry!" Claire's eyes widening at the insanity of what they were saying.

He stopped for half a beat, searching for his car keys and wallet resting on the table, turning to follow behind Jacob out the front door. He was already at the truck swinging the suitcase into the trunk.

The internal struggle fought within her. She couldn't let them go; she couldn't let them leave her to deal with this alone. But how could they do something so crazy, so impulsive? When would they be back? Where were they going?

She had to say something, do something, because if she didn't come to a decision, it would be made for her.

"Wait!" She didn't know what lay ahead. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

As she looked into both sets of dark eyes, she did know, though, that she loved these two men, and as long as they were together, her little piece of the world would be a bit more bearable without Quil in it.

She called to the two of them as they began to enter the vehicle, running into the house, grabbing her purse and locking the front door behind her.

"I'm coming, too."

-

-

* * *

**A/N - **Banner - http :// farm3. static. flickr. com/2585/4134605723_aa843a56d3_o .png ...**Follow me on Twitter - ArtBeatsandLife**

**Lots in store for these three; the road will lead them in some important directions, I anticipate though, it will also lead them right back to each other.**


	6. Chapter 6 Leave It All Behind

**Chapter 6 - Leave it All Behind**

* * *

-

Jacob drove the next hour or so in silence. His only comfort, the swish of cars beside him, the grind of tire against road.

He opted not to turn the radio on, it seemed almost blasphemous at this point to enjoy even the smallest pleasures. It pained him even to think that he would find any happiness, however minute, while he had been the catalyst for so much pain around him.

He wasn't even sure he could process the music anyway.

So, he was quiet. They all were.

They couldn't find the words, so they fed off the silence. Exhaustion hung in the enclosed space like a thick, choking fog.

He drove, biting the side of his lip until it was almost raw, deep in thought. He thought about Quil mostly.

About how he should have driven.

The guilt. Quil wouldn't have even been in that car if he wasn't trying to help him out of his bitchfit depression.

And now...

He was gone. Because of his own selfishness.

Finally, Claire begged him to stop in Baltimore so she could use the restroom. Embry complained that he hadn't eaten since that morning.

Jacob didn't realize his own stomach had been rumbling for the past hour until Embry's admission and glanced at the clock.

It was just past midnight.

He hadn't stopped for gas before they left, obviously, and the tank was nearly empty by the time they reached Towson, Maryland anyway. He pulled off on the next exit on 83-South, and into a pretty harmless-looking gas station with a diner attached. Claire disappeared into the woman's washroom to the rear of the diner, while Jacob hopped out to fill up the truck. Embry didn't move at first, but thought better of letting Claire go into the 24-hour restaurant alone, so he unbuckled the constrictive seatbelt and followed her in. He found an empty booth and sat on the bright red leather, tapping his fingers anxiously and bouncing his leg.

There weren't many people there, an older couple that he thought seemed pretty out of place there this late at night. Next to them, a couple that seemed to be trying hard to keep their hands off each other, but not being very successful. There were a few tables of twenty-somethings he assumed went to the local college who were eating and laughing.

Laughter. It seemed a foreign concept at this point in his life. Inhaling and releasing a tired breath, he looked up and caught eyes with Claire and she maneuvered between the tables to slide into the booth beside him. She looked worn and frazzled, and Embry was sure she'd want to get out of that dress soon.

She glanced up at him, scooting closer to him, just needing to feel the closeness of someone, and he was the best person for the job at the moment. She felt the tears begin to form again, but swallowed them back as their middle-aged waitress stopped and took their drink orders.

Diet Coke for Claire.

Iced Tea for Embry.

Claire remembered that Jake loved Mountain Dew, so she went with that for him.

"Alrighty," she said cordially, "I'll have those right out for you. The specials are a fresh vegetable soup with grilled ham and cheese for $3.99 and the bacon cheeseburger with fries..."

It was fuzzy. Watery.

That was enough for Claire; her hearing completely stopped, if that's even possible.

She was exhausted, and didn't feel like listening to this woman for a second longer, so she ducked her head and scooted closer still to Embry, and he draped his arm protectively around her body after feeling her shiver. It was cold in the diner, so he shrugged out of his suit jacket and placed it on her shoulders. It swallowed her, but was warm and smelled like Embry, so she accepted it without protest.

"Give us a minute, will you?" Embry said softly to the waitress, understanding Claire's distress. She snuggled closer to him, closing her eyes, and letting a few slow tears fall. He held her closer, tighter, wanting to comfort her, but knowing he could only do so much. He glanced up at the chiming bells attached to the glass door at that moment, as Jake's large body made its way to their table.

As so many times in his life, he drew attention to himself, just from his sheer size, not to mention there weren't too many Natives just hanging around in clusters in the Northeast. One table of girls stopped their conversation in mid-sentence as he approached them, gawking at him wantonly. Several more eyes were on him as he lithely slid into the booth opposite Embry and Claire, though he ignored them all in favor of ducking his head into the provided menu. He looked at them briefly, then, when it was too painful to stare at Claire, who was on the verge of tears, and Embry, who looked blank, broken, he looked around the restaurant, then at the menu. Anything to rest his eyes on except the two sitting in front of him.

The waitress was back in five minutes and they all ordered food. Jake gathered the menus, handing them to her...the bright restaurant lights shining brightly off the thick laminated surface...

_...The flash of dual lights, the loss of balance flipping...flipping..._

Jacob squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the familiar gripping, clawing at his stomach. Suddenly his ribs ached exponentially more, and he reached and held his tender side trying not to breathe too deeply.

_Fuck _he wished the doctor would have given him something stronger than fucking ibuprofen, even if they were the huge fucking horse kind. He guessed once he left that fucking hospital, that was the end of the drugs that ended in _-ect_, and _-din_.

He couldn't deal with this shit right now.

Those fucking flashbacks were coming more frequently now that he'd regained his memory. He felt his breathing pickup; he felt the anxiety, the panic, but fought it. Fought the urge to run, and scrubbed his hand over his face.

It hurt.

It hurt to still be here without Quil. It hurt even more to know that he'd played a part in his death.

It hurt to think about Rose and what she was doing at the moment. Was she even thinking about him? She had come to the funeral, and sat in the back with her sister. He'd caught eyes with her for just a brief moment, her blue eyes filled with sadness and something else he couldn't place. Longing? She slipped out at the end of the service, and at that moment, Jacob was torn. A part of him would want nothing more than to have her comfort him. To regain some balance and still his mind. The other part, was still so furious at her, he could barely look at her. He longed for A month ago when his life was perfect, or so it seemed.

It hurt to remember. The blood. The smell so strong, so acrid, so potent in his memory, he'd swear Quil was still beside him in that crushed truck.

Claire searched his face and wanted to sit next to him, to comfort him, even in her own despair. She ran her eyes over his handsome face, bruises and cuts marring the once perfect brown skin. He was there with her Quil. He was in the accident; Claire couldn't even begin to imagine how he must have been feeling at that moment. He hadn't talked much since the hospital, and even less after the service and she knew that couldn't be healthy for him. She wanted to run her fingers along his jaw and wrap her arms around him and pull him close to her, to coo and tell him everything would be okay in time.

Though, she wasn't even sure she believed that herself.

His level of loss was so much different than hers or Embry's. He was there. He had seen it all.

And in the midst of her tears, her pain, that very sobering fact hung thickly in her mind.

"Jake..." she didn't know what to say, he was so deep into his mind, there, kneading his temples, eyes closed. He slowly looked at her, and the pain...

It was staggering.

She looked at him, and couldn't force back the stream of tears that flowed. She cried for him.

What would she do now? Quil was her life, her whole world, her soulmate.

More tears came, now enough to dampen the front of Embry's shirt. He felt the wetness, and let her cry, stroking her upper arm with his palm. he couldn't imaged how she was feeling at the moment. He'd bounced around in several relationships, never anything too serious, he was ashamed to say. Embry was always too caught up in his own shit to ever give any real time or effort to a girl. He couldn't fathom loosing someone that he'd loved enough to ask to spend the rest of their lives with him.

Jacob barely registered the bubbly waitress or her genial banter. He could barely taste the food he chewed in his mouth.

He knew he had to eat, and he was starving, but, the energy, the will just...wasn't there. After some time, he figured they should leave, because Claire was all but completely asleep on Embry's shoulder.

He wanted to cry so bad. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't seem to climb out of the hole he'd been dragged into.

He just. He just couldn't find the energy. The pain was so raw, so all consuming, every nerve in his body was frayed and exposed.

"Come on Jake..." Embry was talking to him about something. Leaving? He had Claire protectively tucked on his side, and looked at Jake sadly, "I can drive, okay?"

Jacob nodded and slid from the booth, walking a few steps ahead of Claire and Embry, reaching the truck before the two of them, and climbing into the front seat.

He just wanted to sleep. Sleep...

Without any real direction, Embry hopped behind the wheel after laying Claire in the back.

Now. Where the fuck was he going? What the hell was Jake thinking when he decided to leave? Jake would never run away. Embry was much more apt to do something that impulsive.

Okay, so he figured Jake definitely didn't want to go back to Philly; that's where they'd just come from, and to head back north would have been stupid after driving away for almost two hours. East would get them to DC, or even Eastern Shore, and neither one of those options seemed particularly viable at the moment.

The only place he knew close enough that he could get there without falling asleep at the wheel, was Crystal City. It'd take him just under two hours. The area was nice and they could camp out there until they figured this whole shit out in the morning, once they'd all rested and gotten a hold on this whole fucked up situation. He searched on his iPhone for a decent hotel within the Crystal city zip code and programmed Jake's GPS for the hour and a half drive. Today had been the longest day since, well...

In a long time.

Embry just wanted this shit to be over. He just wanted to press reset, like on Nintendo and start brand new. Like nothing ever happened. Like Quil was still here. Like Jake wasn't scaring the shit out of him with the hopelessness in his eyes, and like he didn't have to have a reason to console Quil's fiancé.

Like everything was okay.

He glanced at his closest friend, arms folded across his chest to the left of him, turned toward the passenger window, just staring. Looking at what, Embry couldn't know, but he knew his friend was still hurting. He wasn't a fucking shrink, and the three of them never really talked about shit like, well, feelings, but he wanted to be there for him, to help him, but he could barely help himself.

Embry knew at that moment, though Jake had always been the leader- the one who got them into a bunch of bullshit over the years, but had also been the catalyst for some of the best times in his life- he was the only one in this car that had their wits even remotely about him.

Under normal circumstances, Embry would have run kicking and screaming at the thought of this level of responsibility. Taking care of someone other than himself? Well, it just wasn't his thing. But these two were just about the last people on the planet that he had left, so, well...fuck running alone.

He had to fucking steer this ship. For now at least.

He glanced back at Claire to make sure she was comfortable. She was curled up on the left corner of the leather seat, with his jacket draped over her body like a makeshift blanket, eyes shut, slight frown, almost too faint to notice. Embry was comfortable knowing she was at least able to sleep a little at this point.

It was times like this he really wished he had family. Well, he had family, but not the kind that gave a shit when your best friend died or that you'd gone on a random road trip and have yet to let them know you've even left the state.

No. He didn't have that.

He'd always been kinda jealous of Jake and even more of Quil. They were perfect. Their families loved them, they were golden in their eyes. Over the years, he'd found himself spending more and more time away from his house, because god knows he couldn't stay there for more than an hour at a time. It was just easier to let Ms. Atera fawn over him, or tell him how amazing an artist he was or how glad she was that he was dating Leah.

Yeah, that positive reinforcement shit really _did _work.

Putting a check in the mail every month or cash in his account used to be great. Fucking awesome. Just give him the money and stay off his back, but after a while, he'd trade in everything he had just to have parents who even gave a fuck. Even in the smallest amount.

He really wanted to turn on the radio. Anything to drown out the thoughts that almost always came when he was alone. He glanced at the two of them again, careful not to take his eyes off the road, and he guessed he would have to make do with the sounds of the cars around him and the light breathing of Jake beside him. That would have to be enough for now, at least until they got to the hotel.

He heard Claire shift in the back, and the soft zip of her stockinged legs rubbing together as she tucked them under her in an attempt to get more comfortable. Embry knew there was no way anyone could be even remotely comfortable in a dress and stockings on a road trip. He was beginning to lose his mind and at least he had the luxury of pants and flat shoes.

He had to get her something to change into.

She hadn't brought anything at all with her except that massive purse. And, while he was sure she could fit a change of clothes in there, he was pretty sure she didn't have any, or, if for nothing else, she would have changed already.

Yeah, he would have to stop for her. Shit, he'd have to stop for himself. They'd have to go to a mall or something in the morning. But, wait, what would she sleep in tonight? That dress? Fuck no. Um. His shirt? Well, maybe.

His internal rambling went on for the majority of the ride, until the city of Washington, D.C. gave way to the rolling green shadows of Arlington, Virginia, and Embry started recognizing more and more of his surroundings. There was an exit to a pretty nice Marriott, so he decided they could get a couple rooms there, maybe even a suite, cause there was no fucking way these two were sleeping without him right there.

Just before they pulled into the hotel parking lot, he saw that there was a Wal-mart about five blocks down Jefferson Davis, so he thought that would work pretty well. He would have preferred at least a Target, but at those early morning hours, beggars couldn't be choosers. It would work well enough - he could get clothes for the both of them, some to at least last them until the morning.

He tried to close and lock the drivers-side door as quietly as possible without waking them, and walked quickly through the automatic doors of the 24-hour store.

First, the shit he knew about - toothbrushes, combs, brushes. _Check_.

He figured she might want to wash her hair, so, after looking pretty helpless at several options, he just picked the most expensive one. Fuck it.

Ok...um. maybe a sweatsuit or something for Claire? She looked about like a small? medium? That black one looks pretty good. He guessed she'd need a shirt or something to go under it, so picked a couple of those.

Er...sleep wear. He needed to find something that looked pretty generic.

For a fucking family store, there sure was a bunch of lacy and sheer shit at Wal-mart.

Um, ok, tank and shorts look about right. Er...

Underwear?

_Geez_. He really didn't like doing this shit at all. No matter how hot he thought Claire was, he wouldn't admit it, and he definitely didn't want to think about picking out her underwear, Quil would have punched him for even suggesting this shit. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Fuck it....okay. She looked about like, um. Medium on top and bottom? Fuck if he knew. Why not try it all? After throwing a few more items for both of them into the cart, including four sizes of the same 3 sets of bras and panties, the harsh florescent lighting began to annoy him.

He finally remembered why he never came in these places.

He grabbed a couple of gym bags to put all the shit in- he definitely didn't want the lady at check-in to look at him sideways when they walked to their room with only plastic bags. Yeah.

Probably wouldn't fare well for them. Three minorities in a fancy hotel in Crystal City that checked in with Wal-Mart bags at two in the morning.

No.

The gym bags would have to do until he could get to a luggage store or something.

He ran into the hotel and plunked down his AMEX for a decent-sized suite with two double beds and a King in the master. The stiff skinny guy behind the counter who smelled of cigarettes and had too much product in his hair eyed him as he was typing up his information, like he didn't believe it was his card.

Embry swallowed the desire to punch this fucker, and snatched the receipt from his fingertips.

"Thank you for rooming with Crystal City Marriott; you have a wonderful stay. Be sure to let us know how we can be of assistance, Mr...." he glanced down at the paper, "...Call."

"Yeah, Igor, you have a map around here?" Skinny Dude looked startled and offended, but brushed it off with a frown. Embry cocked an eyebrow, silently challenging the guy and began searching the front desk area for any sign of roadmaps.

"Well, _sir_, we have maps of tours of Arlington Cemetery and Washington here, there are shuttles..."

"Thanks Shaggy," Embry cut him off snatching a fist full of maps of the area and jogged back to the truck. It was too fucking late to deal with that motherfucker, and he was exhausted. Jumping back in the driver's seat, he turned to face Claire and Jacob.

"Guys..." he whispered to the two asleep behind and the left of him. Neither of them stirred. "Guys," he said a little louder, pushing Jacob's shoulder, and starting to step from the large SUV. He walked to Claire's door and pulled the door open. Squinting against the surprisingly bright parking lot lights, she looked up at Embry, confused.

"Come on," he whispered. "We got a room here, time to get up..." He talked to her softly, and it took a while to even figure out where they were. A hotel, she had gathered, but, where?

"Where...where are we?" she mumbled as he set her shoes in front of her on the concrete. She stepped into them obediently and pulled his coat around her, even though it was fairly warm out. It made her feel safe.

"We're in northern Virginia. Crystal City to be exact. I got a room for us, okay?" he responded, trying to help her understand, to relax.

"Oh...okay," she whispered, feeling Jacob next to her, who had obviously heard the conversation. He looked down at her with tender eyes, and clasped her hand.

"Come on."

Embry grabbed the stuff from Wal-Mart and stuffed it all into both the bags he'd purchased, handed Jake his gym bag, then lead them to an elevator to the sixth floor.

Claire glanced around, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and a couple of sleeping pills and sleep until the next century. She felt lost. What the hell was supposed to happen now? Here they all were, three or more hours away from Philadelphia on a whim and she really didn't know why. Embry interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey...hey," he motioned to her, setting the bag on the king bed. "I figured you might need some stuff, so, I uh... I stopped off while you two were sleeping a while ago."

He unzipped the bag and Claire was delighted to know she could take these clothes off and wash this impossibly difficult day away. She smiled at him, more grateful to him for this gesture than she could ever express. His eyes twinkled, and she couldn't help but smile the first smile she could conjure all day. Hell, all week. It was small, it was pained, but, it was there.

"Thank you so much Em." She slipped out of her pumps and slipped her arms around his waist. He felt so good, so safe, so warm.

"No problem, C. I couldn't have you walking around in that dress for, well, however long we plan to be gone, now, could I?" He kissed the top of her head, pausing to smell the light peach scent of her shampoo. He was sure that the shampoo he'd selected smelled great - he smelled a few of them himself - but it definitely wasn't peach. He'd have to remember that next time.

"We gotta go to the mall or something in the morning, but, I figured this stuff would get you until then."

She smiled again, stepping back to look him in the eye. "Its perfect, Em. it really is."

"Yeah, E, thanks for taking care of this," Jacob said unpacking some of his things slowly. " I guess we can take these two beds, Claire can take the master?"

"Yep, that's what I was thinking," Embry said leading her into the room. "Now, you get comfortable, okay? We'll be right on the other side of the living room."

He stroked her face and kissed her temple tenderly, not really wanting to leave her, but that's what was supposed to happen. He didn't want to overstep, despite feeling the need to comfort her, really, both of them. He knew he would check on her all night, but for now, he'd give her her privacy. Jacob followed suit, only kissing the back of her hands and hugging her tightly to his chest.

She nodded and closed the double doors with a soft click after they'd exited.

All she wanted to do was get into bed, so she reached behind her back attempting to rid herself of the form-fitting dress. She had trouble at first, but she stretched her arm behind her, reaching for the zipper, finally unzipping it and letting it fall to the ground.

If Quil was there, he'd have asked her if she needed help in the shower, she'd smile and say 'yes, of course.' He would join her soon after, where very little showering would have taken place.

If.

But he wasn't there. She was alone as the hot water beat against her body. She stood there for an indeterminate amount of time, finally willing herself to wash. She couldn't go back into the darkness. She wouldn't have Embry or Jacob having to come and carry out her out of the shower like her mother and sister had had to do.

No. She couldn't place that level of responsibility on them.

She forced herself to wash her hair. She forced herself to lather her body and rinse. She forced herself into a towel, and into the perfect pajama short set Embry had picked. She forced the hotel-issued blow-dryer over her hair, then forced her hair into a knot.

It was all forced. But she did it, and that was enough for her at the moment.

She forced her eyes closed as she sunk into the frighteningly large bed. Alone.

She didn't sleep though. No. Hours ticked by and after a while, she couldn't hear the movement or talk of the boys on the other side of the suite any longer.

It was quiet.

It was quiet, and she was horrifyingly alone.

Before she even registered what she was doing, she was up and out of her bed, and peeking into Embry and Jacob's room, where they were both sound asleep.

This wasn't alone. This was an us. A we.

She slipped into Embry's bed, as silently as she could, and scooted closer to him, wanting so badly for him to take the pain away. To make her feel less alone.

Embry felt the bed move under her weight and barely opened an eye in the darkness, only reaching out to her with his arm. She fell into the perfect space between his chest and upper arm, and finally felt some sense of normalcy, whatever normalcy was at this point. He pulled her closer to him, and she rested her arm across his chest, and they were almost okay.

Almost.

But, tomorrow, was another day.

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**A/N -** Thanks for reading and sticking with my own little emo fic. Also, thanks to my beta team, this time, **VampWolfGamma**, you rock.

Thank you to everyone who voted, **Stealing Forever** won the Quileute "La Push" Challenge **happy dance.** For those who care, the winning banner is here: http : // farm3. static. flickr. com /2503/4228931443_e1e1399d0a_o .jpg

And yes, there really is a Marriott in Crystal City, Arlington, Virginia, FYI.

**DISCLAIMER: Twilight characters and related likeness are owned by Stephenie Meyer, Little Brown Publishing. No profits have been received in the production of this piece.**


	7. Chapter 7 Restless

**Chapter 7 - Restless**

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There was sunlight peeking through the heavy maroon curtains.

It streamed a long line across his abdomen, wavered down to the floor, and then angled across the bed of the pair sleeping next to him. That light, not nearly enough to actually see anything in the room, was more than enough distraction for him at the moment.

Though spotless and nearly perfect, the hotel room had a hairline crack in the corner, just below the ceiling that almost resembled a perfect lower-case 't'.

He had blinked a total of three hundred forty-seven times in the last thirty minutes. Jake had heard Claire's muted whimper at least thirteen times during the last four hours.

He hadn't slept- not past the first forty-five minutes he was in bed. He'd heard Claire enter the room and lay next to Embry, briefly wishing that it was him she had chosen. He was in the most pain, and the one crying and bleeding inside. He had been there that night, and couldn't forget.

He could remember everything now.

Besides napping, he really hadn't slept in days. You never really appreciate something as simple as uninterrupted rest until you have none. What he wouldn't give at the moment to have a still and rested mind.

He glanced at the side table for the fourth time that morning. It was just past 8 a.m., so he figured it wouldn't be too insane for him to be up at this hour. Claire and Embry were still deep asleep, though he'd heard them both stir a bit, no doubt just on the edges of waking.

He threw the heavy down comforter to the edge of the bed and swung his feet onto the flat, hotel-issue carpet, walking to the clinically white and sterile bathroom to relieve himself. As he waited for his body to finish, he caught a glimpse of himself in the wall mirror behind the toilet and sink area.

Jacob was definitely not at his best. His normally dark eyes, bright with joy and humor, had dulled. His healthy sienna skin was ashen and marred with nicks and tiny scars, still healing from the accident. His face looked a bit better though; the bruises were fading. The once deep brown and purple wounds lightening, to his brief relief.

He washed his hands and began digging through the small leather bag he'd left there the night before for his toothbrush.

He remembered, wistfully that this was an activity he and Rose usually did side-by-side – her with her pink electric WaterPik, and him with his standard navy blue manual one. Her light blue eyes smiled, crinkling at the corners as she watched him. He'd smile back as his hand pushed the blue plastic over his teeth, foam gathering in the corners of both their mouths, though, neither really cared. She'd bump his hip with her own, and quirk an eyebrow playfully. He'd poke her rib with his large index finger.

It was all wonderfully and painfully normal, and cohabitational.  
_  
I could see just the outline of Rose's breasts straining against a threadbare undershirt she'd stolen from me long ago. Her hair was everywhere, her eyes still drooping slightly from sleep, and a thin indentation was left by her pillow, pressed against her right cheek. She spat._

_"Dr. Williamson gave us this research paper about the theory and practice of feminism and masculinity in post-industrial American society." I nodded, swishing the bright green liquid around my mouth, spitting, and then wiping my mouth with a grin._

_"Wow. Exciting." My tone was sarcastic and dry, and was not lost on my girlfriend._

_She rolled those beautiful blue eyes that brought me to my knees at every turn. "Shut up...I'm telling you all this because we have to pair with a partner."_

_"Okay, so, what's wrong with that?" I made my way back into the bedroom, beginning to strip out of my boxers, with her following behind me, raising her shirt over her head and tossing it into the wicker hamper._

_"Jake, this is my grade, here. You know how I feel about sharing my clothes, and they just go on my body..."_

_"...But such a beautiful body it is..." She grinned as I approached her kissing her neck and helping her out of her shorts. The, she laughed._

_"Well, the only person in the whole cohort that I don't think is a complete idiot is this guy, Edward." I walked back into the bathroom and started the shower._

_"Oh? Well, just talk to him. Maybe you guys can be partners. Babe, please don't take forever getting ready this morning. Please. We have to be there at eleven."_

_"Says the man at half-mast currently pulling me into the shower with him." She mused with a broad smile glancing downward and stepping into the glass encasing behind me. "That is not the reaction of a man in a hurry to leave the house."_

He finished brushing his teeth and rinsed, reaching for his razor. Rose hated it when he didn't shave. His coarse hair would scratch her sensitive porcelain skin. He thought for a second, rolling the can of shaving foam around in his palm for a while.

He thought back to the night that everything in his world seemed to fall apart.

Before that night, he had his friends, a job he loved, a gorgeous, intelligent soon-to-be fiancé who loved him and got along with his friends and family well enough. He remembered her breathless pants, and moans. Her flushed skin, and, him.

How fucking stupid could he have been? Jake should have seen it; the late nights working on their "project," and those phone conversations in hushed tones. It was all so fucking obvious to him now, though, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, right?

Now?

What a difference a month could make.

His best friend was dead because of him. His girl was gone and, god knows, he could have gone his entire life and all of the next one without seeing her in that bed with _him_. Beyond that, Jacob wasn't even sure he'd have a job to go back to after all of this was over. And, his body was broken, inside and out. He just couldn't shake the thing that he wasn't willing to even admit to himself, at this point.

Admitting it would take things to another level. Right now, he was a guy dealing with a lot of fucked-up shit. Actually saying that he was so far under the water, fully submerged, more than he'd ever experienced would be altogether different.

He'd have to talk to someone. He'd have to get help. He'd have to admit...weakness.

And, the last thing he wanted to do was say he was weak to anyone, especially after Rose had stolen his manhood with every moment she was with that bastard. How could he ever feel secure with another woman after all of this? How the fuck could he trust someone? Jake swore to himself that if he'd ever seen that fucker again, he'd kill him dead and take joy in the activity.

His heart broke a little more that morning when he thought of the time it took him to just trust her. She had assured him in the beginning of their relationship that she would never hurt him, not like this. She knew he had trust issues with women, and, well, pretty much everyone. So, once he opened himself up to his friends, and to her, it was wholly and completely.

And this…

He hadn't even known he even wanted anyone else. The first person he'd wanted to run to after Rose had cheated, or after the accident, was her. He'd wanted her to comfort him. How could you really be comforted by the person who had broken your heart? How could she heal the wounds that she'd caused?

She'd called him.

More times than he could even count after that night. Definitely every day, and always at the same time. Early morning, late evening. Those times were always toughest for him; those were the moments that he was so used to having her warm, smooth body next to his, and he was sure she missed his very masculine, hard body next to hers.

He couldn't bring himself to talk to her. He had built what seemed a very strong structure around his heart just to make it day to day. He knew he'd crack into a million pieces if he had a moment alone with that sexy, husky voice pleading and begging him to reconsider.

Jake spun the can around his hand, rolling it, and then glancing at his reflection again. He thought about a different time; a time when he was younger, and he had far fewer worries than he did now. He remembered that he rarely shaved his face. As course as his hair was, it never grew very thickly on his face. He'd liked the freedom of not being a slave to the razor every morning. He didn't have a corporate office to go to everyday, on a trip like this, and he was sure Claire and Embry didn't give a shit what he had on his face.

"Fuck it," he murmured, throwing both back into the bag. There'd be no shaving today. That much was certain.

He splashed a few handfuls of water on his face, and patted it dry before popping a few pain-killers and downing some water from the faucet. He was happy as he noted that he had an appetite that morning. That was really touch and go. Sometimes the sadness and the regret were so deep he could barely remember to breathe, let alone eat. But today? Today he was hungry, and he'd order some room service.

He silently walked back into the bedroom where Claire still looked to be asleep, but Embry's eyes were watching him in the dimly-lit room.

"Hey," Jake said softly, realizing his friend was noting his every move.

"Hey." Embry's tenor rumbled against his chest. He didn't want to move a muscle, as Claire had finally stilled, burrowing herself into the left side of his body, but fuck he really needed to take a leak. He wondered how long Jake had been in the bathroom and how he was doing that morning. He wanted to ask him how he'd slept, or if things were getting any better, but he remained silent. He knew his best friend, and he knew that Jake could come to him when he needed him. The last thing he wanted to do was crowd him or force him into anything.

He watched as Jake made his way into the living room, with sad eyes. He knew how he'd slept – fair, considering the amount of tossing, turning, and crying Claire had done all night. She was really in pain. Under normal circumstances, Embry wouldn't condone random drug usage, but he really wanted to get her another sedative. She was scaring the hell out of him.

Shit, so was Jake.

"C...C..." he said softly, attempting to slide his arm under her sleeping head. The last thing he wanted to do was disturb her after she'd finally drifted off, but, even considering this, she'd definitely not want to wake up to a damp bed.

He carefully maneuvered his arm, shoulder, and torso from under her head, and managed to silently make it to the bathroom. By the time he'd made it back to the room, she'd rolled into the warm space he'd just left, curling into a ball, with her hair completely covering her face and pillow. Embry wondered how the heck she could breathe like that, but, since she'd made it all these years sleeping all crazily like that, she must have known what she was doing. He scrubbed his palm over his face and softly closed the bedroom door, as not to disturb her.

"Em, you want some room service? I'm starving," Jake said, glancing around for what Embry assumed was the hotel menu.

He took a good look at his friend, walking over and retrieving a bottle of the too-expensive waters lined against the wall, cracking open the cap and taking a few long gulps. Jake looked fairly rested, and Embry wondered if he was able to get any significant amount of sleep the night before. He sure hadn't. Claire's tossing and turning and cries helped assure that he'd had a pretty crap night's rest.

He wouldn't have had her sleep anywhere else though. She needed him; she needed both of them. Even Jake in his near-zombie state was offering her something, from what Embry could tell – if nothing else, another warm body in the room. Misery does love company and, well, there were two of them.

"Yeah, I'll take something and, uh, just order Claire whatever you get...French toast maybe?" Jacob nodded, lifting the receiver and beginning the order.

It was just before nine and, for the first time since they'd all left, Embry remembered that he'd been disconnected with pretty much everything and everyone back in Philadelphia. He hadn't checked his Blackberry since the funeral the day before, and he was pretty scared to see the state that his missed messages and voicemails were in, at this point.

He searched around for the dress pants from the day before, sliding his hand into the right pocket. 7 missed calls, 5 voicemail messages, and 87 new emails.

Shit. Today was already sucking and it was far before noon.

Where the fuck were they going anyway? Did Jake have a plan on when they would leave Virginia? Well, Claire and he did kinda force their way into this little adventure, and it's not like Jake asked them to go. Still, it would be nice to know some details. Any details.

"Hey Jake...Where are we going?" Embry furrowed his brows in concern, glancing back at the closed door where Claire lay sleeping.

"I... I dunno, man. I was just planning on heading away from Philly. I guessed I'd figure out the rest when I got away from all the...people."

Embry nodded, walking toward the stack of maps he'd scored from the front desk, and pushed them in Jacob's direction. "Well, here's a start... I was glancing at this stuff and figured we could just head west. See where we got just following Route 50."

Embry unfolded the thick rectangle of brightly-colored paper, pointing to a long highway highlighted in red across the middle of a map of the United States. The highway ran coast to coast, running through the Midwest until it reached the Atlantic Ocean. Jake stopped to glance at his friend thoughtfully.

This could be okay. This might work.

He let the idea of actually crossing the entire country roll around his head for a while. He really didn't know where he was headed when he hopped in his car last night. All he knew was Philadelphia – looking into all those familiar faces, the possibility of running into Rose and _him – _was maddening. He didn't have to work; Embry was his own boss and had an assistant that could take care of things until, well, who knew?

Claire… Well, Claire had a job, but, really, she never really _had _to work. He'd never say that to her, though. She was protective of her status in her company and would never let anyone call her a _trust fund baby_. She was smart and had, mostly, worked for the positions she was in.

Mostly.

But, really, there was some level of nepotism or favor in every company for nearly every worker. So, save for swatting away the glances or suggestions that she'd been given that job outside of her own merit, she'd navigated the waters of corporate America relatively unscathed.

Yes, this might just work. He hadn't been to California in ages, and who better to do this crazy shit with than the only two other people on the planet who really understood what he was going through? He blinked, and then licked his lips, leaning closer to the map and following it through several states he'd never been to.

Embry watched Jake closely, waiting for his feedback on the idea. They were all there now; no turning back at this point. Why would they even want to? There was little to go back to in Pennsylvania, at the moment. They all needed a breather. They needed some time away from life, which was admittedly pretty damn shitty right now.

"Okay." Jacob nodded, running his hands over his hair and face, turning toward one of the plush arm chairs, and flopping his body down with in exhale. "We can head out tomorrow, maybe?" Embry bobbed his head in agreement.

"Yeah, I think we can just take a second to think out a plan...to map this all out, and then we can go," he said, softly – tentatively to his friend who was so clearly still in pain. The weight of everything was still etched fully on his face.

Yes, they would all go. After they reached California, who the fuck knew, but they would live day to day. And sometimes, when everything around you is a mess, not knowing – not really having a clue of your next step is – may be just what you need to get some perspective. Embry knew that. He wasn't a stranger to pain, or heartache, or any of the myriad things that cause someone to lose it; to teeter on the edge, hoping, willing for someone or something to either push them over or snatch them back.

He knew all too well. He saw his own eyes reflected in Jacob's eyes, and it scared him.

"Okay then. Let's get something to eat. Me and Claire'll head over to the mall – Pentagon City maybe – and get some clothes."

Jake nodded. "Okay."

"You okay, Jake?" Embry said, with concern in his voice, and looking at Jacob's blank, watery stare into nothing. Jacob glanced up, squeezing his thumb and index finger at the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. Sure, sure," he replied, not really wanting to have this discussion, just yet. Before he could say more, his phone vibrated violently, dancing across the coffee table he'd poured the contents of his pants onto the night before. He glanced at it.

Sue.

He wanted to talk to her. Well, he knew it would be the courteous thing to do. What a good son would do. She was probably worried sick. Billy probably was, too. Neither of them had seen him since the funeral, almost twenty-four hours before. He knew he should talk to them; to let them know he was alive and hadn't done anything too reckless.

This impromptu road trip notwithstanding.

Jacob scrolled through his history and was met with 27 missed calls from his father, stepmother, sister, Quil's mother, Leah, and....

Rose.

The last one stayed with him, burning a cigarette-sized hole through his already tattered heart. Quil's family would have been hard enough to endure; those faces, attempting to hide their sad eyes for his sake. The eyes that said, 'why our son? Why not _him_?' though, they'd never say that to him.

He knew that was what they all said to themselves.

He said it to himself.

Quil was good and level-headed. He'd never done anything wrong in his life. He'd supported his friends and family and had loved Jake like they were blood. What did Jacob do in return?

Fucking killed him, that's what.

Yes. He knew he should answer or call or something. Call them all to let them know he was okay, but he couldn't. He didn't have it in him. So, for now, he'd have to talk to them all later.

"Who's that, Jake?" Claire's breathy voice carried through the room, surprising them both. She adjusted the tank over her body, shifting her weight and stepping forward a few steps.

"Claire..." Jake said standing and walking toward her, arms outstretched. She allowed herself to be swallowed up in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his lean waist, and enjoying the feel of being safe, warm, and cared for, before she pushed for an answer from him.

"That was my mom."

"You should probably call her back, Jake," Claire said, weakly. "I need to call my family too; they've been looking for me all night, from what I can tell. I've gotten a bunch of voicemails, and texts."

"Yeah...me too," Embry affirmed, taking Claire from Jake, allowing her to bury her face in his chest, and looking at Jake knowingly. "Look guys, why don't we handle that?"

The thought of talking to her mother always made Claire anxious and fidgety. She didn't want to talk to her. She didn't want to talk to anyone. The only person she even remotely could deal with at the moment was her father, or maybe Embry's parents. They were good people, and they loved her, and would wonder how she was faring through all of this.

She stepped back from Embry, and he released her, just as a knock signaled that the food had arrived. Claire smiled halfheartedly at them, wishing that they both would stop looking at her like that. Though she felt very fragile at the moment, she wasn't fucking helpless. She loved them for their concern, though, more than they even knew. She smiled, again, hoping that her feeble attempt at assuring them that she was okay would work, and then turned to retrieve her iPhone from wherever she was sure it was thrown the night before.

After digging through her too-big designer bag, she retrieved her cell, which was left on vibrate since the funeral. The idea that she'd had enough voicemails, emails, and text messages to last her the rest of her life caused slight annoyance to wash over her. Then, she saw the texts from Kat and she couldn't help but be happy to hear from her baby sister.

She'd have to call her first, then her father, then...

Her mother. Yes, she'd have to endure Daphne and her assaults on her choices, just as she'd always had to her entire life, up until recently. She'd question her sanity for hopping in a car with two men alone, though Jake and Embry had taken care of her on more than one occasion. Her mother would tell her that she needed to see her therapist, who was gradually growing richer from the emotional wounds Daphne had left with Claire just during her teenage years.

Her mother would provide her with enough guilt and self-righteous haranguing to get her through the rest of the trip, however long it would be. She wanted to talk to her _father_. _He_ would make this all better.

Admittedly, it had taken Claire some time to trust him. He'd been in Japan, or Australia, or New York during the lion's share of her childhood. He was somewhat of an absentee, always away working, and leaving her with Bess, because fuck if her mother was ever there.

Luckily, he'd changed jobs from his hectic position in hedge funds to a cushy Execute Vice President role at one the largest financial institutions in the world. He'd made up for all that time away from her and her mother, tenfold, once Kat and Kris were born. _He _loved Quil, and he always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.

"Daddy..." Claire said into the phone, already choking with emotion.

"Clay, honey... Where are you, dear? We were worried sick."

"Well, I'm sure _you _were..." she mumbled away from the receiver.

"What was that dear?"

"Nothing, nothing...I'm...I'm in Virginia."

"Virginia? What on earth are you doing there, love?" She blinked rapidly, as she often did when she got nervous; and this was just her father – her daddy – the man who thought she hung the sun. She shuddered to think of how she would react if she'd called her mother, instead.

"I just needed some time away." Her uncontrollable sobs escaped before she could stop them, at the thought of Quil. She was desperately trying not to seem weak in front of her father, and kicking herself for failing so miserably. "I just need to think and, if I go home, I'll just be reminded of him, and I can't stand it Daddy...I can't bear it...I can't do it!"

"Shh, shh, honey. Oh sweetheart, I wish you would come home. I wish you would come and stay here with your mother, and sisters, and me for a while. We'll take care of everything...and you know Bess is back from vacation, so she could help, as well."

Her sobs didn't stop, even at the thought of being comforted by her childhood nanny and, now, the family's estate director. "Will Mother be there?"

"Wha…? Well of course, Claire. She lives here too, you know," he said softly, attempting to soothe her crying. "You two have _got _to stop all this, at some point. We're family."

"I can't deal with her, Daddy... I won't come." Her sobbing made it nearly impossible for her father to understand the tirade she went on.

Her mother never really liked Quil. She never thought he was good enough for her, even though she'd introduced the two. Being near that woman, in this moment, felt like a betrayal to Quil, and she just wouldn't do that.

Her father sighed. "Well Claire, dear, where will you go? What is there in Virginia for you?"

She paused, thinking about all the possibilities that lay away from her home in Pennsylvania. She really wasn't sure of what would happen tomorrow, or even in the next few moments, but, surprisingly enough, she found comfort in that. Her life had always been so ridged and regimented. This was a welcome departure from all of that.

"I don't know, Daddy. I really don't. I do know, though, that I had to get a way. I felt like I was choking there. I had to leave." There was a pregnant pause between the two. Her father sighed, defeated.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Claire."

With renewed purpose, she cleared her throat, pressing back the sobs that threatened to overtake her and belie her feigned strength. "No. No, I really don't. But… that's okay. Tell the twins I said hello."

-

-

* * *

**A/N -** Thanks for reading. A big thank you goes to my beta team, you know who you are. Per usual, you helped me out of the bellows of comma slices, misspelled words and my insistence upon not using apostrophes where appropriate.

Stealing Forever was nominated for an Indie Twific, and was recommended on The Little-Known Ficster. Check my profile for more deets - I guess you people really DO like this emo shit.

Come follow me on Twitter. I've got candy. **ArtBeatsandLife**.


	8. Chapter 8 Easing the Hurt

**Chapter 8 - Easing the Hurt**

* * *

Generally speaking, Claire considered West Virginia a grim-looking state. She waited silently for the others to comment on their surroundings, not wanting to seem pretentious, though it was hard not to at the moment. The landscape and what she'd seen of the people left quite a bit to be desired. Of course, Embry looked around brightly, and she watched his eyes survey the road ahead as they entered the state. He craned his head to look at her and flickered his eyes toward his window with a quizzical look. Then, a mile-wide smile broke across his face; it was infectious, and she responded wordlessly, with a shrug and a small grin.

She guessed that, at some point, the northern half, where their journey had brought them, was fairly modern and industrialized. She'd heard over the years that the area had had a considerable amount of coal-mining money filtering through, which helped with the local economy. But that day, by the time the three had seen it, it resembled a more or less ghoulish-looking cowboy-era ghost town. It was nothing like Philadelphia or anywhere even remotely surrounding it. As they quietly drove through the state, she found herself excited when she caught sight of something modern; anything to offset the rusted mid-century pick-up trucks littering house after run-down house. This fact helped her forget and stay occupied, which was all she really wanted at that point.

She searched the barren rustic land to the left or right of them. She counted the number of vehicles made after the 1970s, and then the 1980s, amid farms or old mills or deserted mines. It kept her mind busy.

It all helped her forget, how much her heart and mind still ached.

Five days since the funeral and two weeks since... Things were still hard for her; very hard.

Times like this, though – watching the brilliant sun glow off the perfect, golden, reddish-brown skin of Jacob's bare forearm, or the way the cool breeze flipped and mussed Embry's unkempt hair, keeping her mind on what Jake was thinking or focusing on the curves and dips of Embry's left ear; the thought of nothing really, but the perfect weather and their surroundings made her almost, _almost,_ forget.

In her perfect world, she'd never met Quil. So, there was no pain of loss, and she could just exist with these two selfless men, who were protective and watchful of her.

She wanted those memories of Quil to go away.

She wanted to forget that Christmas party and her soiled Chanel jacket. She wanted to forget the wedding dress hanging in a bag that she could never again allow herself to unzip. She wanted to forget the beautiful muscles of his back, or his intricate tattoos, or the way his eyes wrinkled at the edges when he was being mischievous.

She wished she could take her perfect, perfect memories of Quil and freeze them in time. She wished she could tie them with ribbon and place them in a wonderful, perfect box, lock that box and put it away forever. She wished she could forget, and just..._be_.

Her perfect world was interrupted that afternoon, by no fault of her own.

Suddenly, as she drove along the sleepy towns littering Route 50 with the two people she felt closest to in the world, all she could feel was guilt. She felt the guilt of quarreling with Quil for leaving his socks on the bathroom floor the morning before the accident. It was a trivial thing, and they'd made up shortly thereafter, but she still felt the stinging pain of regret.

He'd been talking about taking Jacob out that evening, all week. Quil had been excited to see his friend and was determined to make him feel better. He'd called her one last time, just as he pulled up to Jake's house, apologized for their fight that morning and told her he loved, her among a myriad of other non-important topics of conversation that couples in love and in comfort with each other engage in. If she'd known that would be the last time they'd speak, she'd have come up with so much more to say, something meaningful and poetic. She'd tell him that he was her air, and her sun, and her life. She'd tell him he was everything she never knew to ask for.

She never got the chance, and that was something she'd always desire; those small, insignificant and all-consuming moments with her Quil that she'd never, ever get back.

But, on days like this, on this clear, sunny July afternoon, she could forget. She bit back the stinging in her heart – it was always a stinging, a burning, or numbness – and let herself ease back into the comforting cadence that was Embry's conversation. He always helped her forget. He was so funny, and kind, and interesting. She could listen to him explain nearly anything to her for an infinite amount of time, because everything he said sounded so complex, and so _beyond_.

He'd held her when she'd snuck in his bed, so tenderly and chastely that she'd almost forgotten her pain. She wanted to go to him and tousle his hair, and let him smile his smile at her It was the smile that told everything would be okay, the smile that comforted her in those dark, frighteningly scary hours, and the smile that, though she'd never admit it to anyone, barely herself, reminded her of Quil's.

She was grateful to Embry for engaging her from his passenger seat beside Jake, who was driving, and bobbing, and dipping along the hilly landscape. He talked to her, which also helped her drown out her own thoughts. Yes, today was a pretty bad day, but she noted that it wasn't as bad as the day before, and not nearly as bad as two days before that. She really only listened to every third or so word that he said, but that was enough to keep her mind off of anything that could drag her back down and ruin the progress of that bright West Virginia afternoon.

They'd traveled about half of the 150-mile trip through the state, and it had gone by faster than she'd even noticed. Jake was deathly quiet from the driver's seat, as she expected from him. He was focusing so intently on the road that she was sure he hadn't heard a word she or Embry had said in the last hour. She wanted so badly to know what was going on in his head, but he hadn't given her a glimpse of what was bubbling inside of him since that morning in the hospital when he'd cried and poured his soul out to her, and Embry, and everyone else who knew her Quil.

He was still in pain, that much was clear, and she knew better than to compare her pain to anyone else's, but, _God_, he'd known Quil his whole life. He was a part of Jake as much as he was her. It hurt her more than she realized, initially, to look at him these days, because, while Embry was the light spirit he always was and she herself was slowly, very slowly, seeing changes in the grief, he was not changing. Not at all. She would even wager that things were getting worse, more difficult for him.

Her heart was so full of love for him; even in these few days, the love she'd gained had grown so much that Jake's anguish was tangible to her. His hurt was her own, and, combined with her very real emotions, it was something that was physically painful for her. So, sadly, she avoided him, and looked to Embry to share her burden. [4] The hum of his voice eased and salved her, lulled her...lulled her.

Embry paused, mid-sentence, when he glanced in the green tinged rear-view mirror only to see that Claire had fallen asleep. He'd have to continue his rant about his parents, his childhood, his rocky start to adolescence, and of his schooling later.

_St John's Academy, situated in a wealthy section of suburban Philadelphia, was a place where the judges and politicians, and chief executives of the area sent their sons for grade and high schools._

_By the summer of 1994, Embry had all but sold his soul to avoid having to go there. Even upon entering his sixth grade year, he had a fairly firm handle on what he needed, or, at the very least, wanted; especially with regards to a place that he'd have to endure for eight or more hours of each day. This place was not a place he'd want to be, with its perfect, shiny floors, perfect-looking WASP students and massive church attached. Not this place, with its choking stiffness._

_This was not a place for the creative. This was not a place for someone like him. He required a place that would provide the patience and one-on-one attention that, at that point in his young life, he needed so desperately._

_Embry had known he was different for as long as he could remember._

_He saw things differently. He thought differently, though, of course, he never realized until it was so unceremoniously pointed out to him by his peers, on several occasions. One thing, however, that Embry never lacked was self-confidence, which helped turn his unfocused brain into a wunderkind, after some time, and a person that had several friends, generally. In those early years, this was always a quandary to Embry – he never really tried to gain them._

_At fourteen, he drew the line at boarding school. He refused to go to Boston-area Worton; he'd sooner run away, to Spain, perhaps. Maybe he'd even go to Greece, but before he'd ever choose to do something so rash, so selfish, he __had to consider Jacob and Quil. They were his real friends. They got him, and they didn't judge. He also refused to leave the art department that he'd been doing so well in, or the support of Ms. Dwyer, who had been so patient and saw the potential in him._

_Math and the arts were where Embry excelled. Well, he excelled in most things without much effort, but mathematics was where he soared. When he tried to explain how he'd only ever gotten perfect grades in every math class he'd ever been in, including advance calculus by grade six, he could only describe numbers and logic as he'd always seen it in his brain._

_…The way he'd always seen numbers, and music notes, and chess moves, and scientific equations._

_He saw them as a series of colors._

_It all came down to color._

_Eights were cold and blue._

_Zeros were red and thin brush strokes._

_He soon learned that that was also not normal._

_Neither was the perfect score on his SATs or his complete inability to focus on anything that didn't involve percussion instruments._

_No, none of it was very normal, at all._

_Embry _was_ special. Even still, at the time, what was occurring seemed anything but. His genius manifested itself in almost complete withdrawal from anything and anyone that weren't his two friends, an easel, or a piano. More, once he'd hit puberty, his differences morphed into a complete inability to focus, need to always be away from home and with Jacob and Quil, and a near-perfect mathematical, musical, and artistic memory._

_He would continue at St. Johns. He would stay as his parents travelled in Europe and Western Asia, his only supervision being his elderly grandmother. And he'd managed to get himself into quite a bit of trouble over the years, which, looking back, he was sure would have been a lot worse were it not for his friends. For the first few years, he was bitterly angry with his parents for leaving him there to fend for himself. Even now, at almost thirty, he still harbored the same boundless emotions of his youth. _

Jacob stopped just outside Cincinnati's city limits to refill the tank, quietly engaging in the simple task. He took his time and didn't make a big deal when Claire wandered off to look around and stretch her legs. Embry leaned against the MDX with his arms crossed and brows furrowed, thoughtfully, for a few moments. Then, he pursed his lips like he always did.

"You good to drive into the city? You've been goin' since Virginia." He cocked his head to the side and looked at Jake for any signs of fatigue.

Jake returned his friend's gaze and took inventory of how he was feeling at the moment. Just like the days prior, the only thing he could really feel was raw. He didn't know what to do with or to make of these feelings, so he tried this best to push them away. He tried everything to ignore the emotional distress, which he was learning would remain with him for the long-haul, like a deep-set splinter underneath his thumb.

His body was healing nicely, thankfully, because he was nearing the bottom of his prescription, but he still wasn't resting enough. He'd really gotten used to the tired, dull wanton ache that resulted from a lack of good sleep. So, he ignored that altogether.

"I'm okay. It's only another hour or so, or at least that's what the GPS says."

Embry smirked and Jake almost smiled. He'd always had the worst luck with GPSs and the one that came with his truck was no exception. Embry hated the thing, but, at least it kept them somewhat on-route. God only knew what would happen if he'd have to read the map that he'd commandeered from the hotel in back in Crystal City.

"Where's Claire?" Jake looked around and tried his best not behave as the concerned patriarch he was feeling like at the moment.

Embry glanced around, as well, and then saw a head of jet-black hair and a graceful neck from fifty yards away. She was standing in line with a handful of various food items, and smiling a weak smile at the obvious advance of a guy, about their age, in line behind her. Jake followed Embry's gaze and his jaw clenched involuntarily, as did his grip on the handle of the gas nozzle. He watched intently for any wrong-move by the guy, quietly sizing him up from where he stood in the parking lot and preparing himself for the possible need to react if the stranger stepped out of line with their Claire. Embry watched, too, with less fury, yes, but watched closely, never the less.

After half a beat, Claire exited, the guy seemed to back off, and Jake was able to relax a bit. Embry met her a few steps away from the car and helped her with the bags. Jacob watched the simple interaction until she was seated in the vehicle, and the gas nozzle clicked loudly indicating it had reached capacity. He climbed into the driver's seat and prepared for the remainder of the drive, pressing various buttons – the air conditioning, the radio. He preferred the silence, but learned that hours on an open road with nothing to entertain didn't do well with others included on the trip.

"Jake..." Claire's sing-songy voice got his attention, his head turning.

"…Got you some Mountain Dews." Her tone, coupled with her feminine hand swaying the green and yellow can in feigned enticement, caused an unexpected smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. It felt so foreign, so odd, and uncomfortable. So much so that he took the cold beverage from her and that small smile quickly disappeared.

...but not before Claire saw it, and _man, _did it look amazing on him. It made her heart jump a little, which was a decidedly strange reaction to have for Jacob. But, he had smiled for her. The first one she'd seen since, well, she couldn't remember when. Perhaps, things weren't as bad as she had previously thought with him. Maybe he was coming around, if even in the smallest amount.

* * *

Jake slipped into his favorite sneakers after feeling around in the dark for jeans and a t-shirt. The night was cool but pleasant, and the twinkling city lights made his walk an easy one. After relenting to the gorilla that was his insomnia, he remembered the bar he'd noticed as the trio made their way into the city when he'd awaken. It would do and provide him with something to pass the next few hours until Quil and Claire would wake, too. He could finally get a drink and, hopefully, some time to himself, and rest from the perceived strong front he was performing for Claire and Embry's benefit. He was tired in mind and body, and, as he crossed the small side street to enter, he began his descent and took off the mask.

Hours before he'd left, Claire had crawled into his bed and snuggled closely to him. He flipped through every thought imaginable, wondering why she had chosen to sleep with him that night. Did she pity him? Did she see the aching desire for human touch that he furtively wanted so badly through this difficult time? It was a desire that he'd never, ever admit to her or Embry. He'd wanted to stay there with her, to feel her warm, soft body and smell her light, citrus smell, but his mind was racing and he literally couldn't remain there, lying next to her a second longer.

So, there he sat, in the little dive with heavy wooden booths, a loudly-playing FIFA match, and too many patrons. He straddled his massive body on a stool in a corner of the bar, sipping his Jack and Coke. Then he followed it with a Red Stripe, staring straight ahead for the first hour, sipping, and thinking, and sipping.

"Can I get you another one?" Jacob glanced around after his broken daze, finally locking his two black eyes with two blue ones.

The bartender was hot.

Even through the haze of liquor and pain, Jacob could see that.

She wore a denim vest, showcasing her ample breasts, a short leather skirt and cowboy boots. She flipped her waist-length auburn hair over her shoulder, noting his confusion and nodding to the empty glass sitting in front of him. He nodded, and she turned to prepare his simple drink.

"You're not from around her, eh?" She set the dark mixture in front him after placing a small, squared napkin down. He remained silent, and looked at her through intense eyes. Hot or not, Jacob was _not_ in the mood for small talk.

Bartender nodded her understanding, and went about her night, serving her other patrons, glimpsing in the direction of Jacob and monitoring the liquor in his glass. As much as he tried to ignore her, though, she made herself known; bending over to better hear a customer, a sliver more of shapely thigh making itself known to him and, while reaching up for a low-ball glass, a slice of stomach peeking through.

As the night wore on and the futbol matches continued, she retrieved a pair of shot glasses, placed them on the edge of the bar, and reached for the Cuervo, because it was her favorite and because the tall Indian was cute and dangerous-looking. She filled them each to the brim and Jacob watched intently as she placed small bowls of salt and limes between the two of them. Bartender raised an eyebrow and glanced around the bar, before resting her blue eyes back on Jacob.

"C'mon, now," she began, "you won't let a girl drink by herself, huh?" Jacob's jaw clenched and unclenched, in mild annoyance, as he made his decision. His fingers dwarfed the tiny glass, as Bartender licked the fatty crook connecting her thumb and index finger. She noticed that the tall Indian completely ignored her salt and limes, so she decides to, as well.

"Salud." She raised the glass to her lips, with chipped black nail polished-fingers. Then, the pair consume the liquid in one synchronized motion.

He was where he needed to be. His head was just fuzzy enough to numb the pain, but not so much so that he didn't have control over his actions. At least, that was after the one; by his third shot of tequila, he was certifiably intoxicated. He could get back to the hotel, but just barely – only, _only _if he didn't drink anymore.

The bartender continued to chat him up, and pour him shots of tequila, even after her shift ended around 3AM.

"So, you gonna tell me more about yourself, or do I have to feed you more of the Cuervo for you to open up?" She cocked an eyebrow and licked her lips with a smirk. Jacob knew that look; he'd seen it on every sorority girl that had ever played late-night beer pong with him and his team mates. Initially, that look scared the shit out of him, coming from a girl like this bartender. She looked wild, and powerful, and fearless, three things he neither had the wherewithal nor the cognizance to handle. But, as the night and morning wore on, she looked even better than she did when he was sober, and her fearlessness pulled out of him a fearlessness of his own. He lost what little resistance he had, and his brain slowly turned to mush at the thought of her knee pressing persistently against his under the heavy, worn booth.

He squinted and, in that moment, he noticed something for the first time since the accident, and even before that; the night with Rose and Edward and his lost best friend.

He wasn't hurting. He didn't feel the stabbing in his chest, and the guilt wasn't overtaking him.

He was swimming, watery, like a dream. His body felt fine, and his mind was only on one thing; the undeniably attractive bartender who had released a button on the top of her vest and had her practiced fingers gripping his knee. He grinned at her, playing with the skinny straw he'd been chewing on for the past half-hour, and showing her what he hadn't showed in a while: his perfect teeth and the deep dimples of his cheeks that seemed out of place on his masculine face.

"Now, that's what I want to see," Bartender said, her eyelids droopy from alcohol and a 10-hour shift, and from lust.

Something passed between the two, sitting in that too-loud bar in Cincinnati. Somewhere between the proceeding shots of golden liquid and the dimly-lit dank bathroom, they came to an understanding. They each would get what they needed, and there would be no discussion of it.

Bartender tried her best to keep her balance as Jake pressed himself into her again, and again, her bare back rubbing against the scratchy, graffiti and god-knows-what-else covered bathroom wall. The heel of her boot on the edge of the toilet did little to help, as she jerked violently toward and away from him. Jake was fully with her, in that men's bathroom that smelled of urine and stale liquor. What he wasn't was thinking about the pain, and for that he was grateful.

She moaned loudly. He grunted, and after exactly thirteen minutes in the red-light lit box, Jake emptied himself into the sheath of latex. Bartender smiled the smile of a minx, of a woman that had gotten what she'd wanted, and Jacob tucked himself back into his favorite jeans; jeans that Rose had bought him.

After she'd slid her phone number into his jeans pocket and made her way back into the bar, Jake tried his best to steady himself and splash water from the ancient-looking faucet on his face. He stumbled back into the cool early-morning air and then the expensive hotel room the three were staying in for the night, or the week, _whatever_.

He was drunk, but not drunk enough to miss that he smelled of sex and sweat and nauseatingly-sweet liquor. He briefly considered showering before entering the bed with Claire again – he wouldn't have her smelling another woman on him – but thought better of it. He could barely fish out his key card and enter the hotel room, let alone master the dexterity required for washing oneself at this level of intoxication. So, instead, he found the oversized chaise lounge in the sitting room, slipped out of his sneakers and shirt, because _shit,_ he was hot, and did as little to focused on what he'd spent the night doing or who he'd done it with as possible.

He wasn't in pain. He felt okay. He still felt watery, and dreamy, and fuzzy, but at least he felt fine. He didn't think of Rose, or of Quil or the accident. He didn't think of Philadelphia, or of his parents, or of his mortgage. He thought of Bartender; of the feel of her and the taste of her mouth. He shifted until he was comfortable. Then, Jacob let the numbing effects of sleep and drunkenness ease him under.

.

* * *

**A/N –** Thanks for reading; I appreciate each one of you. Jake is obviously going through a tough time, as are the rest of the group, each processing their grief differently.

Thanks to my beta, Kay Cannon, she rocks, and to her I am wildly grateful.

And I want to invite you to check out my C2, **Pack Play** that I manage with my friends **Little Furry Cannibals****, Dahlia Black**, and** Wolfpull85**. It's not for the faint of heart, but, you may find some naughty things staring your favorite member of the TTS wolfpack. (http):/(www.)fanfiction.(net)/community/(Pack_Play_The_Best_In_Wolfpack_Lemons)/75509/

Come follow me on Twitter. **ArtBeatsandLife**


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